


Book 2: Spirited Away

by Isuvviaraq



Series: The Beautiful Beast [3]
Category: No Fandom, 陰陽師 | Onmyoji (Video Game)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Cock & Ball Torture, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Forced Marriage, M/M, Threats of Violence, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-03-13 18:14:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 63,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18946252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isuvviaraq/pseuds/Isuvviaraq
Summary: "I’m your husband. That means Iamyour family from now on. I’ll make you happy. I promise.”"He's mocking me."The second part of the Beautiful Beast series.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who read book 1 prior to May 24, 2019, you may be interested to know that the first book has undergone a fairly significant rewrite. 
> 
> It's not absolutely essential that you reread it, since the changes in continuity don't carry over into this book except in a few minor details. Still, I WOULD heartily recommend having a look at it, because the rewrite turned out much better, in my opinion. It's a little bit darker, and a lot more poignant.

 

            I felt warm again when I started to wake up. Warm and… reasonably comfortable. For a while, I rested in place, dozing in a contented daze free of articulate thought. That blissful darkness rested like a cat on my chest for about fifteen minutes or so, broken only when I tried to roll onto my side and felt a blast of pain in the base of my trunk, as if my pelvis had cracked in two. I groaned without opening my eyes, settling back onto the ground, fancying I could hear my bones creaking like a broad tree branch in the wind.

            Perhaps I gave the wrong impression when I said that I was thinking nothing up to now. Certainly no _coherent_ thoughts were on my mind, but it wasn’t unbroken bliss either. I had a vague feeling that something very important and very _bad_ had happened, and that it demanded my attention; I’d just gotten by, telling myself that anything truly important would wait until I’d had my fill of this delicious relaxation. The shocking pain easily breached that barrier, and memories blurred by time and sleep came crashing into my mind.

            Yasha. My village. The Underworld. My family. _Our wager_ …

            That couldn’t be real…

            I didn’t want to believe that any of it had happened, but that much – our wager and ‘marriage’ – must _surely_ be a fiction.

            Maybe only part of the memories were true… The sight of my family crossing the Sanzu River into the Afterlife _had_ seemed a bit surreal. And if that much were a dream, maybe other parts were as well.

            Yasha had raped me. Recalling this, I felt cold, hollow, faintly sick. But I knew it was true. Still… What if I’d fainted? I could have passed out midway through, fading into a nightmare that stretched on even after my mind receded from the real world, and Yasha would have left me for dead once he was finished.

            By now the sun had risen, so naturally I would feel warmer. True that my eyelids were dark, but the sun could just be hidden behind some branches. The blanket that lay over me… The demon had worn that kimono over his shoulders. Perhaps when he was finished with me, he’d draped it over my unconscious, defiled body. He’d seemed the type to make such a condescending gesture without any real pity.

            Over the next few minutes, I made these and about a dozen other excuses. I don’t think I ever actually believed any of it, even though I really wanted to. Oh, I _dearly_ wanted to. But sooner or later, I had to open my eyes.

            It would be just another setting for the nightmare to continue.

            Once more, my bad sense of timing caught me. I opened my eyes, saw the roof of a cave, saw a gradient of light cutting across the gloomy ceiling, and then snapped my eyes shut again at the sound of approaching footsteps.

            Those footsteps came casually, softly, as of somebody walking in their own home. I listened warily, pretending to still be asleep. But… my skin was crawling. My heart pounded so fast, I could feel the hot blood it sent rushing through my ears. I feared that Yasha would be able to hear that panicked thumping.

            By the time he was right beside me, I had to fight every instinct screaming in my body to get up and run for it. I still remembered from yesterday the inhuman speed with which he could move; I didn’t have a prayer of getting away.

            A few quiet seconds passed, then I heard and felt Yasha getting down onto the ground beside me, lifting up the blanket. Just barely, I held back the desire to flinch away.

            His arms to encircled me with something like tenderness. “Come on, don’t play possum with me,” Yasha admonished. “I know you’re awake. This is the fastest I’ve heard your heart beating all day.”

            So he really _could_ hear it.

            I opened my eyes and, in spite of everything, was startled. Yasha’s voice was so deep, so confident in that derisive, masculine way. The bright, beaming, pretty face smiling into my eyes seemed like it couldn’t possibly be the source of that voice.

            My lack of greeting didn’t bother Yasha in the slightest. He looked at me and slid a hand along my thigh, then planted a kiss upon my lips. My heart skipped a beat, but my body kept fearfully still. “You’ve been asleep for almost the whole day, love. You must be hungry. Do you feel alright? I’ve done my best to make you comfortable, but I guess you’re probably still gonna be kind of sore, huh?”

            My impending panic was somewhat diminished by the bright, almost childish exuberance in his voice. Like my waking up was a present he’d been excitedly waiting for.

            But now he was quiet, looking at me, waiting for me to say something. “I’m… It hurts to… sit up,” I offered, responding to his last question.

            Yasha nodded, placing another kiss on my lips and running his fingers through my hair. “I thought so. But don’t worry! I figured you’d be a little sore. Just stay in bed today and let your husband take care of you.”

            Husband…     

            That word called back memories from last night’s myriad humiliations. Of the violence, the fear, the pain… the hatred. All the better, I suppose, that the anger forced my lips to remain shut.

            “So, what would my sweet Hiroshi-tan like for dinner?”

            A lump of ice seemed to slide through the hot, roiling furnace of my rage. This, I realized, was the first time I’d heard my name uttered by that hateful voice.

            “When… did I tell you my name?”

            Yasha blinked, then smirked with suppressed laughter and indicated a point behind him. “You didn’t tell me. I found your travel pass among your things.”

            I couldn’t sit up very well, but over the demon’s shoulder, I could see my satchel propped up against the wall of the cave, its contents obviously rummaged through and despoiled. The scroll that declared me a member of my father’s printing business and detailed my intentions in Kyoto was lying open. At this distance, the only detail I could read clearly was the name written large, blockish print: “Sato no Hiroshi.” 悟の寛

            I tried to remember if I’d still had my satchel with me during my blind rush, or when I’d stood looking at the ruins of my village. I couldn’t remember… Probably not. And now it held the only remains of my life before…

            “You went back for my things?” I asked mildly.

            “Of course.” He seemed perplexed by the question, as if I’d asked whether he sat down to eat. After another second, though, he shook his head and nudged my shoulder. “So what does Hiroshi-tan want to eat?”

            I bridled at his familiarity, and at ‘tan’ in particular. “Don’t call me ‘Hiroshi-tan.’ I’m not a child. I’m 19 years old.”

            “I know,” Yasha replied, smirking ironically. “I read your travel pass, remember? I know your age. That’s not why I call you Hiroshi-tan.” Without elaborating any further, he leaned closer so that his face was directly overhead from where I lay. “Now what do you want to eeeeeeat?”

            “I’m not hungry!” I snapped in irritation.

            The demon giggled in unflappable amusement and kissed me on the nose. “Soup it is, then. Just stay here and relax.” From another bag that he’d been carrying when he walked in, Yasha produced the same gourd I recalled from last night, lifted up my shoulders a little, and helped me to the first few gulps before leaving me with the water.

             I kept an eye on him while he busied himself with fish and cookware. My sense of panic had settled, but I still didn’t have this demon figured out. If he _wasn’t_ mocking me, then he just about had to be crazy. And something about his whole manner sickened me. He was smug, callous, condescending. I got the impression that even now, I was more of a toy than a person to him.

After a few silent minutes, the smell of hot food wafted over to me. I heard the crackle of fire and could smell tender fish simmering in a pot of stew with daikon, green onions, mushrooms, and a spicy undertone of chili. Despite anxiety, the fragrance kindled my long-cold appetite. Gulps of water momentarily slaked my hunger, but it always returned stronger after a minute.

            After half an hour, Yasha scooped a generous helping of stew into a pair of ornate, Chinese bowls. “Here we go.” He walked over with the steaming soup and set the bowls on the ground. From a pocket, he drew a tiny pouch of white powder and dissolved its contents into one of the bowls. “A little something I got for you,” he explained. “It should numb the pain and help you heal faster.” With delicate confidence, he slid an arm under my shoulder and lifted me enough to rest my head on his lap. I turned my head away from his attempt to spoon feed me the first mouthful of soup.

            “I’m capable,” I groused.

            Yasha just chuckled and ruffled my hair as though dealing with a precocious child. “Of course, my brave darling. But for my peace of mind, let me help you until you have a few gulps in your belly.”

            “I’m just fine,” I protested. But Yasha started to push the spoon against my lips, and I had to swallow it just to get it out of my face.

            It was good soup. I had to concede that much. The medicine had added a slightly sour taste to the broth, but the sourness blended with the flavor of the mushrooms. After the sixth spoonful, I could feel a warm, tingly remoteness in my fingertips, and Yasha helped prop me up on my side so I could eat on my own while reclining.

            “Good?” Yasha asked once I’d taken a few mouthfuls on my own.

            “Yeah,” I mumbled without enthusiasm. I didn’t want to say anything, but I knew he’d pester me if I didn’t. Even so, I couldn’t help but notice that Yasha spent as much time as he could watching me. Like eating any food _he’d_ prepared wasn’t hard enough.

            “And… is the medicine helping?” He actually seemed a little tentative about this part.

            I shifted my weight a little, rolled gingerly forward to test the pain. Once more, I was forced to admit that the pain had seriously diminished – now an almost tolerable ache. The medicine was fast-acting, apart from anything else.

            “It’s not as bad now,” I hedged.

            Yasha brightened promptly. “Perfect. I knew it’d help. It was crafted by an herbalist spirit.”

            I took another spoonful, musing on this. He’d said that he had no friends… Had he stolen the medicine, then?

            “Still… shame to need it at all, really,” Yasha mused. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentler with you from now on.”

            The shiver that ran down my spine knocked the soup in my spoon back into the bowl. From a quick glance, I saw that Yasha was leering at me meaningfully. Ridiculous as this is, it only then sank in for me that I was “Yasha’s bride,” and all that that entailed.

            I would have to have sex with him.

            He would expect me to have sex with him regularly – maybe even nightly. Another shiver wracked me, my skin haunted by the memory of his touch, his penetration, how his seed had scalded me from the inside.

            I lay my spoon back in the bowl, struck with sudden vertigo.

            “You should eat all of it,” Yasha advised, reaching out to push my bowl a little closer.

            “I… don’t feel hungry. I think I might be sick.”

            “The medicine will keep you from getting sick,” Yasha said earnestly. “But it doesn’t keep long. You need to eat it now.”

            “I can’t… I really can’t.” The medicine was dulling the pain. The faster I recovered, the sooner that demon would expect me to sleep with him again.

            “Hiroshi-tan.” Yasha’s voice was stern. “Don’t be difficult. This medicine wasn’t easy to find.”

            Patronizing bastard…

            “Is the soup the problem? Does it taste bad? Do you want to hurt my feelings?”

            Appealing prospect… 

            “Oh wait, I get it.” Yasha’s teeth flashed in that characteristic, smug grin. “You preferred it when I was feeding you, didn’t you?” Before I could reply, he’d put his own bowl aside and gotten up onto one knee, picking up my bowl instead. His eyes glinted with amusement.

            “That’s not it!” I hurriedly protested, turning my face away again.

            “C’mon, Hiroshi-tan. I’m your husband – it’s my pleasure to take good care of you. You don’t need to feel ashamed for relying on me.” He loomed over me, and I could smell… something on his skin. Some perfume. Jasmine, maybe? “A good man wouldn’t let his bride starve, right? Eat, Hiroshi-tan.” Just at the end of that sentence, I almost thought I heard a trace of impatience. There was no threat, but… if he _really_ wanted me to eat, I had little doubt he would push as hard as it took.

            Sulkily, I held out my hand again. “Alright… I’ll eat it myself.”

            “But I kind of _want_ to feed you, now.”

            _So annoying!_

            “Seriously, I’ll feed myself,” I asserted. He didn’t fight me as I reclaimed my bowl and spoon from his hands – just shrugged as though to say, ‘your loss.’

            The demon backed away once I resumed eating, but if anything his gaze had intensified. I soon became afraid that he would set upon me as soon as I finished off the last bite. But no matter how slowly I ate, he watched me patiently and waited for me to finish.

            Sure enough, once my bowl was drained, Yasha crawled up to me, laid his hand on the back of my neck, and held me in place as he leaned down for a kiss. My heart pounded painfully in my chest, memories of last night jostling against the backs of my tightly clenched eyelids. In mere seconds, Yasha’s warm lips closed on mine and robbed me of breath, making me dizzy and light-headed. I felt my pulse through the bruises on my arms and hips and waist. I felt the tickling scrape of his nails against my neck, and the welts left on my neck and shoulder where I’d been bitten.

            I believe I started to whimper at some point. That might have been what made him draw back at last, though he certainly misinterpreted its significance. His eyes were half-lidded and sultry as we stared at one another. I was trembling and breathless. Tears were rolling down my cheeks.

            “Wow…” The flame in Yasha’s eyes grew brighter. He panted like a lusty wolf. After a few seconds, he leaned in again, clutched at my shoulders, and pressed me down against the futon. This was even worse – trapped beneath his weight, paralyzed as his tongue pushed its way into my mouth. His hands started to draw down the kimono he’d lain over my body, exposing my chest inch my inch to his touch. I could feel his arousal straining against my thigh.

            Just as his hand, creeping down my waist with languorous relish, reached the top of my thigh, he stopped. He pulled back from the kiss and met my gaze with an earnest expression. “Do you… feel well enough to go again yet?”

            In my anxiety, it took me a while to parse the question. Then I promptly shook my head with what I hoped was not over-enthusiastic vigor.

            The monster’s breath caught, and he gave me a frustrated, calculating look. He hadn’t expected me to refuse. I didn’t have to try very hard to look as frightened and in pain as I really was, but even so I feared that Yasha was sure not to take ‘no’ for an answer.

            So I practically shuddered with relief when he retreated, his pretty face pinched in a childish frown. “Alright,” he said. “I guess we can try again in a while.”

            A reprieve. Temporary, but I would take it.  

            Yasha sighed, a hand coming to rest in his lap just a few inches from his still-bulging arousal. Even clothed, _that_ was one of the most intimidating of his attributes.

            “In the morning, though, I’ll expect you to be ready,” he said as though to conclude the matter. I noticed that there was a hint of accusation in his tone, as though he wanted me to feel guilty for making him wait.

            For the next few minutes, things were quiet. Yasha sat with his ankles crossed and elbows resting on his raised-up knees. He wasn’t doing anything, but he didn’t look bored. More like he was content to just sit and think… or more accurately, to brood. So I used the momentary silence to do some thinking of my own and take stock. Yasha said earlier that I’d slept through most of the day, and just now said ‘in the morning’ as though dusk were already coming on. But it hadn’t seemed _that_ dark before Yasha came back and started the cook-fire. The cave… hadn’t seemed…

            “Where are we?” I asked, feeling a pang in my heart as the memory of my family on the Sanzu River resurfaced.

            Yasha’s eyes flicked over to me, chin resting on interlocked fingers. “The Underworld. Where else?”

            So that was real too. “Does that mean that I’m…”

            “You’re not dead. The living can get into the Underworld if they’ve someone to take them.”

            “Why bring me here, though? Didn’t you say you had no home?”

            Yasha didn’t so much roll his eyes as he swiveled his head lazily about his shoulders. “You humans… can be a bit confusing with your definition of ‘home,’ I’ve noticed. I think the closest I’ve ever had is more like what you’d call a ‘camp.’ I don’t have a house, I’ve never had anyone waiting for me in any particular place, I don’t return routinely to the same place, I’m too powerful to feel especially threatened by anyone wherever I am, so one place feels as ‘safe’ as another, and even if I sleep in the same place for a few nights or a few months, I never see fit to stay permanently.

            I sat, blinking at the obliqueness of his reply. It took a while for me to pick through his words and decide that my question hadn’t really been answered. “But why _here_? We were already in the human world on a secluded island. Why take me to the Underworld?”

            A little of the sourness left Yasha’s face. “There you go again. Asking, ‘Why?’ ‘Why?’ ‘Why?’ Always so curious, like a squirrel scratching at the earth.” A subdued chuckle floated from his lips. “It’s simple. I have contacts… or you might say ‘arrangements’ in the Underworld. Like the one who sold me that medicine. I’ll stay a while in the human world when I’m bored, or if I need to get ahold of something manmade, but mostly I stay here.”

            “But…” I floundered for a moment. I could have spent an hour listing all the reasons I didn’t want to be here, but it was hard to pick one Yasha would listen to. “This is… so different from what I’m used to…”

            “You’ll get used to it after a while,” Yasha assured mildly. “It has its own landscape, and the quiet can be so peaceful.”

            “Yes but… I’ll get homesick. That island was my home, and it was… full of memories.”

            His smile got even bigger. “That’s what’s so great about us being married. We get to _make_ a home together! And new memories to go with it. Every couple has to take that step eventually, right?”

            My heartrate was picking up again with a mix of frustration and panic. “But surely it would just be easier to live in the human world. I mean… what if I want… um…”

            Yasha took advantage of my hesitation to butt in, “It would be too distracting for you. You have me now. I can bring you everything you need. I can _be_ everything you need.”

            That was too far. My temper flared hot, and words began to spill from my mouth faster than I could review. “I don’t need you. I already _had_ everything I needed. I was happy. That’s gone now, because of you. You should have left me among my family’s ashes like you’d said you would. I would have preferred that fate.”

            For an instant, I felt a flash of fear, afraid I’d gone too far. But after a moment’s reflection, I waited with anxious anticipation and hope. If he was the sort to slaughter a whole village on a whim, then it should only be a matter of time before I antagonize him into killing me. Once I was free of him, I could cross over and find my family. Yasha would send me right to them.

            But exactly where I’d expected Yasha’s amusement to go cold, it softened. An instant passed, and Yasha was at my side, stroking my hair while my eyes stared a moment longer at the point in space where he’d been sitting. I’d never caught a glimpse of any intermediary movement. I didn’t flinch or pull away, but I felt my stomach twitch at the shock. My eyes tracked gradually over to the face that was staring at me with a sympathy so thick it was patronizing.

            Then Yasha’s hand held my head in place, just as he’d done before, and leaned in to press a kiss upon my lips. It was shorter, less impassioned that his earlier kiss, but it still made my skin crawl.

            “Hiroshi-tan,” Yasha cooed, now holding my face in his hands like a mother consoling her child. “I understand. You’ve lost a lot, you’re not at home anymore, and your life’s gone in a direction you really didn’t expect. It’s only natural that you feel sad, confused, angry… anyone _would_ feel a little scared in your situation. I don’t blame you.

            “But you have to trust me: things will work out alright. You’ll see. I’m not a monster; I could be a really nice guy if you just give me a chance! Your life with me will be better than your old one. I can take such good care of you – bring you anything you want to eat, clothes you’d never have been able to wear, jewelry that doesn’t even _exist_ in your world, and I can make you stay young and beautiful forever. I’m your husband. That means I _am_ your family from now on. I’ll make you happy. I promise.”

            At the end of all that, he kissed my forehead, and I just stared out emptily.

            ‘ _He’s mocking me,_ ’ I thought to myself. ‘ _Either he’s mocking me, or he’s insane. He thinks I’ll come to love him? He thinks I ever_ could _love him? Does he think my family’s slaughter is something I’ll just… get over? That I’d ever let him replace them?_ ’ I didn’t know what to do. If he was mocking or tormenting me, then getting angry would play right into his hands. If he was insane, then it would be pointless to argue with him. So my only option was to play along. Or at any rate, put up only minimal resistance until a chance to escape or kill my kidnapper presented itself.

            I didn’t trust myself to speak, so after a suitable pause, I cast my face and eyes downward, feigning resignation. Yasha let the silence hold for a little longer before he lifted my chin and kissed my lips again. This time, I was caught off-guard, and I made a face, squeaking as he pressed his lips to mine. Luckily, Yasha mistook my cringe for shyness, and he rubbed my head with something like affection… or affectation.

            “Don’t worry, babe. You’ll get used to that too.” Hand still rubbing my head, Yasha took another kiss. Then another. And then he inched his body up against mine, leaning over me and starting to push his tongue between my lips.

            As the heavy touch of his growing erection pushed against my knee through his hakama, I hastily braced my palms against his chest, groaning desperately. As soon as I managed to wiggle my lips out of the kiss I gasped, “Don’t! I’m not ready. Don’t hurt me…” It was embarrassing to be so blunt, but I thought it might play into his fantasy.

            Yasha didn’t ease up a bit. He just got on top of me, making sure not to put his full weight on my body. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything yet.” Yet I could feel the tip of his erection prodding at me. “Didn’t I show you last night what a patient lover I can be? Your kisses will be enough to satisfy me for now. So kiss me, Hiroshi-tan, my sweet wife.”

            That electric tingle consumed my senses again. I never returned Yasha’s kisses, but I was prey to them, nonetheless. His tongue manipulated mine, making me feel as vulnerable as if he’d held a knife to my throat. I was so dizzy and breathless, I thought I might suffocate from his kiss. I was still unseeing, vacant, still and quiescent when I realized at last that the kiss had ended. I saw his sultry eyes, his open mouth, the pale face framed by silky, lilac hair. He looked a little out of breath as well. How long had the kiss lasted? I had no idea. It felt like I had a fever.

            A few moments passed in silence. Gradually, Yasha’s familiar smirk emerged, flashing his pearly teeth. “Wow… Glad to know I’m not the only one who enjoyed that.”

            I stared at him, befuddled. How could he have gotten _that_ impression?

            Yasha suddenly shot his hand down to grab at my crotch through the blanket. It was such a shock that I gasped aloud, and the gasp sounded like a whore’s sigh even to my own ears. I’d felt that hard, uncomfortable lump against my hips all the while and thought it was just the demon’s erection grinding into me. I didn’t notice that my own hardened cock was grinding with it until his fingers were latched around it, squeezing my flesh through the blanket. Of course he had left me unclothed underneath…

            My gasp caught the demon’s attention. He was grinning at me like the devil he was, tugging softly, squeezing again and again. “Well! You _did_ enjoy that! It’s amazing just how hard Hiroshi-tan’s cute little dick got just from his husband’s kiss.”

            A hot blush burned through the numbness in my cheeks. “S-shut up… Let go of me.” I tried to push his chest back, but my arms were so weak.

            “Hey, hey!” Yasha said in placating tones. “Don’t you remember me saying I like your small penis?” His fingers continued to squeeze and play with my cock while he spoke. “I think it’s cute, honestly! You don’t need to be embarrassed. It just highlights that you’re the girl between the two of us.”

            “… I-… idiot…” I was still out of breath, and the humiliation and relentless stimulation were making me dizzier.

            “It’s true!” Deciding to push the joke even further, Yasha pulled the kimono out from between us to expose my crotch. Then he undid his hakama and fundoshi to let his pulsating monster spring free, all while locking eyes with me and licking his lips. “Look at this.” Yasha smushed his dick up against mine, then grabbed them both in one hand. I clenched my teeth as they rubbed together, groaning in discomfort. “Just look. Your little thing doesn’t even go halfway up mine. If my dick were as small as yours, then _yours_ would just look like a girl’s clit by comparison!”

            A thick, oily gush of tears started to peel down my burning cheeks while I glared up at Yasha. This was too much. This _beast_ was insulting me, molesting me, assaulting what little dignity I had left, and I couldn’t stop him. And the worst part of it: my cock refused to soften. I willed with all my might for it to go limp in Yasha’s hand, but it stayed resolutely, treacherously hard. It even leaked pre-cum for Yasha to use in slickening our members.

            So as the tears reached the edge of my jaw, I threw an open-palmed strike at his face. I couldn’t hurt him, but I hoped it would at stave him off.

            Yasha caught my wrist with casual disregard, as if he didn’t notice himself doing it. He flashed me another patronizing, sympathetic look. “C’mon babe, I’m really serious here. I’m not saying all this just to tease you.” _Liar!_ “Seriously, I think you’re beautiful – every part of you. So don’t be insecure about it.”

            My scream had left me too breathless to answer.

            “Here, I’ll show you just how much I adore you and your little dick.” Yasha held my wrists down beside my waist and pushed himself down to my crotch. He flashed a quick grin at me. “I know your hips are still sore, but I can be patient. I’ll focus on making _you_ feel good tonight.” After saying this, Yasha flicked his tongue over his lips. I felt his breath hot on my hard member.

            “No, please!” I winced, vainly tugging against his hands.

            “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt.”

            Then Yasha slid my prick into his mouth and started to swirl his tongue around. He sucked hard, wrapping his lips about it tightly, and I wheezed fearfully at the pressure. His lips were soft as they slid up and down, coating my member with his saliva. I wanted to pull away, to cover my eyes, to cover my mouth, but my hands were trapped.

            Worse still, as his tongue massaged my pulsing member, it was getting harder to fight back. Soon I couldn’t lift my elbows from my pillow, my fingers could only sluggishly flex and work to form fists, and when Yasha used his shoulders to wedge my legs wider, I couldn’t get them to close again.

            That tongue! That fucking serpent’s tongue. First he had forced it into my mouth to hypnotize me into silence. Now he was using it to hypnotize my body. I could feel the strenuous tip as it rolled along the back of my penis from base to tip, and it seemed to be rolling a plenteous drop of pre-cum along in front of it. I felt it spread over his tongue. The gliding touch of that slick organ as it rolled my foreskin down forced my back to arch upward in an act of muscular vigor I’d been unable to affect willingly only a moment before.

            It struck me suddenly how close I was to my limit. Frantically I gasped, “Stop! You have to stop. I’m…”

            Yasha didn’t listen. His lips pulled back to the tip of my cock, then slid right back down, sheathing my manhood in his mouth. His tongue felt suddenly alive, flicking, twisting, writhing around my cock with lazy, rapid flexibility, like a ribbon twisted by a gale.

            My vision went black as I came, jaw aching as it stretched for a scream too large to vocalize. My pelvis, Yasha’s assurances notwithstanding, flared with pain. Not as bad as when I first woke up, I grant, but agonizing even so.

            For about 8 seconds, the climax drew on. Yasha’s tongue never stopped, determined to make me experience every second possible. And soon, _that_ became an agony of its own as my member grew more sensitive each passing moment,

            Desperate, I gasped, “Please… Yasha…”

            He seemed to take the point, slowly sliding his lips back and letting my reddened cock loose from his mouth. I just lay on my back, shuddering with aftershocks. My body felt so cold and raw, despite the perspiration all over my skin. And I was exhausted. Despite sleeping the better part of the day away, all I wanted was to roll over and go back to sleep.

            Yasha finally let go of my hands and crawled up next to me as I lay with my eyes screwed shut. I heard him smack his lips before tugging me into his arms. “That didn’t take long. Now was that so bad? Hiroshi-tan’s spunk tastes so sweet.” Next thing I knew, he was pushing a kiss onto my lips.

            I jerked my head away before the kiss had time to muddle my senses. “Stop! That’s gross!”

            “Not it isn’t,” Yasha teased, holding my shoulders in his arm so I couldn’t roll away. “My cute little wife’s spunk is as sweet as she is.”

            “I’m not a girl!”

            Ignoring my outburst, Yasha tugged me closer and pressed his lips against the side of my neck. I shuddered, nerves sparking under my skin. Then he pressed another kiss to my neck, and another, yet another upon my shoulder, and I feared he would go further if I let this go on. I reigned my anger in and thought hurriedly. A minute ago, Yasha had responded to me when I pleaded with him – more than when I raged at him. Then perhaps if I…

            As he tried to tug my lips closer to his, I spoke in a controlled, demure hum. “Yasha… k-k-kun… please…” It worked. Yasha drew back, and I cracked my eyes open to see him peering at me with curious expectancy.

            So playing along with this little marital fantasy of his could at least get his attention. “Please… I’m exhausted.”

            Yasha pouted at me a little. “How? You’ve just slept most of the day. How can you still be tired?”

            I wasn’t lying about being fatigued, so an argument came easily to mind. “But I still have healing to do. My hips are still really sore.” Yasha’s eyes practically glowed with protest, so I hastily added, “It _does_ feel better than before, but… I think maybe… the medicine might be making me sleepy? It might need me to sleep one night for it to really work, I think. I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning… my darling.”

            The word ‘darling’ put a little excitement back into his eyes just as they’d been darkening with disappointment and frustration. He wasn’t quite happy, but I seemed to have just won the argument. A moment later, his face brightened even further as fresh inspiration struck him.

            “Alright. But how about a bath before bed?”

            “I… a what?”

            “Yeah, it’s perfect! I washed you off this morning, but that was hours ago. It’ll let us relax before bed, and it should help you heal as well.” His voice got faster and more energetic as he went, and by the end he was too excited to notice my protests.

            Already he was up, heading further back into the cave where he had a large wooden stub stored. He dashed outside with it, leaving me to bemoan my bad luck. It didn’t take long for memories of the previous day to start drifting back to me like the tide. He had such boyish energy and mannerisms today… Like he was _trying_ to seem cute. As if that would balance out the things he…

            Within two minutes he was back, carrying the entire tub full of water as easily as a single bale of hay. He didn’t even spill a drop when he set it on the ground. Then, retrieving his spear from the edge of the cave, he used its blade to stir the tepid water. I stared, unsure what this was supposed to accomplish. But after a minute, steam began to rise from the water. Yasha occasionally withdrew his staff and dipped a hand into the water, testing and stirring until he was satisfied. As a final touch, he pulled a small jar from the same pack where he’d kept all his cookware, pulled out a lump of greyish, briny sludge, and dropped it into the water. It looked gross, but a pleasant, perfume-like vapor began to drift through the cave. It smelled of jasmine.

            Smiling, the demon came over to me and lifted my shoulders. “Let’s go, darling.”

            “You… really don’t have to,” I said weakly, covering my distrust with politeness.

            “It’s fine. Want me to carry you?”

            “N-no, I…” Seeing no way out, I sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “Just help me to my feet.” I hoped the medicine had worked enough to walk by myself, but the moment I put all my weight on my feet, a pang of sharp, splintering pain shot through my pelvis. I would have fallen had Yasha not scooped me into his arms the moment my legs began to crumple.

            “It’s alright, Hiroshi-tan,” he said, carrying me over to the tub. It was irrational, seeing as he’d already seen every inch of me by now, but I felt embarrassed to be held like this, naked and injured and vulnerable.

            To my relief, the tub was only big enough for one person. But I didn’t let myself suppose that Yasha would leave me alone to bathe.

            He tilted me forward gently, letting just the tips of my toes brush the water. “How does that feel? Not too warm?”

            The question annoyed and baffled me. For someone who’d disregarded my opinions on nearly every other matter, this came off as strangely fussy. “It’s fine,” I mumbled. With gentle care, Yasha lowered my body into the water, and I was submerged up to my shoulders. The steaming, cloudy water did make me feel better, not least because it concealed my nudity to some degree.

            At first, I sat with my arms and legs curled tight to my chest. But the heat of the water with its aroma of jasmine soaked right down to my muscles and enticed them to unwind. Soon, I was stretched out as far as the wooden tub would allow. I couldn’t relax completely with Yasha still around, but it was an improvement. Despite my protests, he even insisted on scrubbing my back for me. It was so confusing. I still thought that Yasha was playing a game with me, but this seemed oddly earnest.

            I suppose at some point I must have fallen asleep, because I was startled awake by Yasha lifting me out of the tub, wrapping my damp body in his kimono.

            He said something as he brought me back to the futon, but I was too tired to catch it. Sleep clawed at me, dragged at my eyes and limbs and soul. It seemed I was already asleep when my body pressed down into the cushion’s plush depth.

 

            A dream without detail visited me in my sleep. Once more, I had a wordless, soundless impression of my family’s voices. They were angry. Full of blame. The wordless voice of my mother seemed disappointed. Cold was bleeding from one side of my chest to the other.

            Then I was awake.

            The illusion of cold receded as I felt the weight of a thick blanket on top of me. The cave was darker than it had been before, but not quite fully dark. I could hear the sound of a surf nearby – I had been hearing it all along, but it caught my attention now for want of any other point of focus.

            My mind was immediately awake, and I felt so restless I _knew_ it would be hours before I could fall back to sleep. I suppose the last day and a half had given me a chance to catch up.

            Gingerly, disturbing the kimono as little as possible, I rolled over from my right side to my left. Yasha was lying there, front-side down on a soft-looking animal pelt. He was fast asleep, face turned towards me, one arm stretched out toward me with his fingertips resting at the edge of my blanket, his naked back exposed to the night air. Oddly enough, despite the dark horns growing from his brow, he didn’t look so evil in his sleep. His face was so calm, I might have mistaken him for a sleeping empress.

            Quite suddenly, another sense encroached upon my awareness: hunger. I suppose that single bowl of soup had only served to stimulate my appetite. With no way to judge how long I’d been asleep, it could well be hours before morning. Perhaps he would get me something if I woke him up?

            No, that was a bad idea. There were only three ways that would turn out: Yasha would be surly from sleep and tell me to shut up; he’d been delighted to hear me relying on him and smother me with mockery before, during, and after getting me something to eat; or he’d wake up in a lecherous mood and advise me to suck on his member for nourishment. Possibly a mixture of the three.

            For a minute or two, I lay awake weighing my options. In the end, I decided to climb out of bed and see if there was food stored anywhere around the cave. If Yasha woke up while I was digging around, I could ask him for something _then._

            The medicine Yasha had given me had, by this point, worked some real wonders. My pelvis still felt sore with all of my weight on it, but it was only a slight, manageable soreness. I was able to walk from the futon to the wall of the cave without stumbling. My captor, meanwhile, remained asleep.

            There was enough light for me to make out my surroundings once I was near enough, but I still made slow progress as I crept along the edge of the wall. Eventually I found a bag of Yasha’s personal belongings: a box of salt, a few satchels of herbs, cooking utensils, assorted scrips and scraps of leather, one piece of what might have been fox fur, and a thick bundle of paper tied with string. I couldn’t read these in the dim light, however, so I left them as they were. Next to the bag, I found the gourd of fresh water Yasha had given me to drink from earlier. After gulping down about a quarter of its contents, I stood up and carried it with me as I continued my search.

            As I reached the wall opposite to where I’d started, my searching finally met some success. My bag of belongings was still right where I’d seen it last. Yasha (I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure he was still asleep) had picked through and examined its contents while I was asleep, but didn’t seem to have taken anything. Luckily, I’d packed a spare set of clothes for my journey to Kyoto, so these could now replace the ones Yasha had torn up last night. A pouch with a few nuts and dried lychees – the last of my travel rations – provided me with a few mouthfuls of food to take the edge off my hunger till morning.

            As I stood up and turned back to the futon, indecision gripped me again. There lay the demon, and there lay my spot beside him… But at the end of the cave yet to be explored, there lay the exit…

            No. It was a terrible idea. Obviously. I was in the Underworld, and I knew no further than that. I had no idea how to get back to the human world from here. I would starve before I ever found my way out.

            But on the other had… If I _did_ starve to death, wouldn’t my soul just be conveyed to – and across – the Sanzu River? If I couldn’t find my way home, I’d at least make it back to my family eventually… And the Underworld was vast. Yasha would be awake in a few hours and come looking for me, but I could probably cover enough ground to lose him in that time.

            Of course… would he be able to sniff me out? Not by any method I’d observed so far. His hearing seemed supernaturally keen, though. That’s why we were always warned not to speak his name within sight of the coast.

            So if I never let my voice out, he wouldn’t be able to find me, would he? He could probably still hear my footsteps…. But how different does one pair of treading feet sound from another? Not much, surely. Right?

            I might have burned away all the remaining hours before dawn with my indecision, if not for a sound Yasha made in his sleep as I stood staring at his slumbering back.

            “Hiro… shi…” he whispered, grunting contentedly and twisting beneath his kimono. “So… eager… little fool…”

            After an initial, panicked start, a relief bordering on euphoria sprang up through all my limbs. I had been right from the beginning; Yasha really _was_ mocking me, forcing me to swoon and play the good, innocent wife to appease his sadistic sense of humor.

            I put on my spare clothes, stuffed the rest of my belongings back into my bag, adding Yasha’s water-gourd to the hoard, and slung it over one shoulder. By the time Yasha woke up, there was every chance he’d already be bored with the game and decide it not worth the effort to search for me. So I wouldn’t stick around and provide sport for him in the meantime.

            From the cave’s entrance, I had a view of vast, black waters stretching out as far as the horizon, with a little more than a meter’s clearance between the mouth of the cave and the edge of the precipice that tumbled down into those unwelcoming depths. To the left, a path seemed to slope down the cliff to a reef, partially exposed by the low, murmurous tide. Not really an option. So I followed the cliff on my right, climbing through a dense cluster of ridged divots in the rock until they gave way to a flat, barren landscape of rock, gritty soil, and the occasional bramble decked with sickish white clumps of foliage. From my vantage, it looked almost as monotonous as the sea behind me. The sky, however, formed the most interesting contrast. I couldn’t definitively make out any clouds, but there were… lights. Points of light in the misty sky – perhaps 9 in total. They were too dim to be the sun, too big to be stars, too small to be moons, and arranged in no discernable pattern. I couldn’t tell from which of those hazy, indistinct light sources my own shadow was being cast.

            As soon as it occurred to me that I’d been staring into the sky for almost a minute, I shook my head and put my gaze back on the horizon. As a final precaution, I took out the piece of cloth that had held the last of my rations and tied it around my face, covering my mouth. With this reminder, I thought I would be less tempted to talk to myself if I got bored.

            And that was that. I walked ahead into the wilderness of the Underworld. I picked three of the mysterious lights overhead and memorized their arrangement. I couldn’t really help but to give them a name, and decided to think of them as ‘The Jagged Spear.’ For now, that would suffice to guide my journey.

            One way or another, I was homeward bound.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been honest with you this whole time, Hiroshi Sato! I really _do_ mean to keep you as my bride. That’s why it _hurts me_ when you disobey me and run off...

            The terror came first. That remains stark in my memory. I had been walking for two hours by now, and I was almost lulled into a trance by the monotony of the landscape – by the wind that could be heard but not felt. Then my heart seized, my stomach clenched, my breath hitched, and only _then_ did I start to listen for the thing that had put me on edge.

            I heard a dry, hollow scratching sound behind and to my right, where I’d passed a crusty hillock of earth only a few seconds ago. It had only been as high as my knee; nobody could have been hiding behind it. But… something _could_ have burrowed beneath it. The images that swam to mind following that thought were almost as startling as the noise itself.

            I took a hasty dash forward, but came up short as a distinct, intelligible voice brushed my ears. “だれが、キラ。”　

            “Who’s there, _krah_?”

            In reply there came a short, ケレケレ、and then, “Dunno, _kre_. Wasn’t expecting company, _kre_.”

            “Sounds heavy… _krah._ ” That was the first voice again. They both sounded hoarse and raspy, as might happen to somebody forced to breathe this dusty air all their life. “But… Do you smell something, _krah_?”

            “Uh-huh, _koro._ Smells good, _koro_ ,” came a third voice, sounding like it had to cough with a thick コロコロthrough every word it spoke.

            “Yeah, _krah._ Real good, _krah_.”

            I took a few more inching steps forward, trying to feign nonchalance, but the almost chitinous scratching behind me seized my footsteps.

            “Wait a sec, _kre_. I think I see it now, _kre_.”

            “What, up there, _koro_?”

            “No, at your sister’s house, _koro_. Of course it’s up here! _Koro_!”

            “Has that visitor got it, _krah_?”

            “No, you dummy, it _is_ the visitor, _koro_! It’s a human – and a live one, _koro_.”

            This was bad. Those weren’t friendly voices.

            I forced myself not to look over my shoulder, but resumed walking at a brisk pace, fighting to keep panic out of my steps. But as I walked, I also strained to listen for sounds of pursuit. Their scratchy voices faded, becoming too indistinct to pick out, until I suddenly heard one call out, “Hurry! There goes dinner! _Kre_!”

            I broke into a sprint, clutching my satchel tight under my arm and looking ahead for some feature of the landscape I could use to evade my pursuers. But there was nothing. Nothing but for a few individual thorn bushes – not even a proper bramble patch that might impede them.

            The sound of running feet smacking against the ground was just at the edge of hearing now, and getting louder each moment. Then a voice called to me, “Hey, why are you running human, _kre_?”

            Quite suddenly, the question struck me as damnably relevant. Why _was_ I running? Hadn’t it seemed perfectly likely when I first set out that I would find my death out here? Wasn’t I prepared to die of thirst and exhaustion after a few days? Then what was the point? This death would be quicker, and then my soul could go once more to the Sanzu River, take the ferry, and escape Yasha for good.

            In three harsh, jarring steps, I brought myself to a stop and stood tall. The sound of chasing feet slowed to a rest some distance behind me.

            “ _Koro_?”

“ _Kre_?”

            “Is he giving up, _koro_?”

            “Hey, human, _krah_! You decided to let us eat you after all, _krah_?”

            “Go ahead,” I said, barely above a whisper.

            “What did he say, _kre_?”

            Calmly in spite of the pounding in my chest, I reached up and tugged the kerchief off my face, then turned about to face my pursuers. There they stood, two diminutive, green little monsters like goblins, and one red creature without any legs, whose ephemeral tail made the barest perceptible crackling against the ground over which he hovered. I faced them down for a few seconds, feeling the fragile bubble of curiosity that held the separation between us. I suppose I was still afraid, but I forced some bravado into my bearing and lifted my arms out to the sides.

            “Come on!” I barked, glaring at the spirits in challenge. “Take me! I’m all yours!”

            It took an agonizingly long moment for this shift in dynamic to work through their sluggish brains. The red one was the first to speak, saying, “So, did we really just find the easiest meal ticket in the Underworld, _koro_?”

            “Fine by me, _krah_!” one of the green ones said, his voice suddenly sounding less dry, as though moistened by his own eager salivation. “But I get first choice, _krah_! I’m going for that big, loud mouth…” He made a sudden dash toward me, lunging with claws outstretched and a shrieked, “KRAAAAAH!”

            It would be so picturesque to say that I accepted death with noble serenity – that I closed my eyes and stood tall, uttering no cry as the demons feel upon me and tore my earthly body to shreds, my soul offering them a gentle thanks before passing on. In fact, I was shaking like a branch in a gale, and my heart throbbed hard enough to bruise a rib. I managed to stand tall with arms outraised, but I knew I was going to scream bloody murder the moment I went down.

            Except, that moment never came.

            The goblin creature was only a meter or two in front of me and leapt at my face with claws outstretched. Then it vanished, its feet hardly off the ground. I flinched, startled by the sudden disappearance. I saw the other two grinding to a stop, though I hadn’t noticed them start running in the first place. The red imp’s face didn’t have enough expression to be read, but the second green one was staring at me with a terror surpassing my own. Behind me, something wet plip-plip-plipped, and then splattered against the ground. I turned around, sluggish and faltering with dread rekindled.

            Yasha stood there with his bare back to me, kimono forgotten. In one hand, he gripped his spear with white knuckles, the body of my late pursuer stuck on the blade's tip. From the other hand, the goblin’s head dangled by its hair, yellow ichor dripping from its neck and evaporating into smoke as soon as it touched the dry earth. As Yasha dropped the carcass, that same smoke started rolling off its entire form, leaving a pile of grey dust in its wake.

            I turned again at the terrified squawk of one of the survivors. “ _Kre! Kre! Kre!_ He’s gonna kill us, Koro-aniki _kre_! Run for-”

            This time, my eyes managed to catch the blur as Yasha materialized beside them, just to the left from my standpoint, and thrust his spear straight through them both in a single, dispassionate thrust. The head of the spear split through the head and neck of the green one and embedded itself squarely in the red one’s chest. Another lazy swipe of the arm sent the two imps tumbling away in four quickly dissolving pieces. This accomplished, Yasha allowed the head of his spear to rest on the ground and stood there with his back to me.

            I didn’t speak. I could barely think. It had all happened too fast.

            At last, Yasha spoke, his voice absolutely empty of inflection. “Did any of them touch you?” I heard him, but the question seemed not to make sense. I suppose I was still in shock. “I said, did any of them touch you?” Yasha repeated, voice heavy and chilling.

            I flinched, then blurted, “No! They didn’t. You got here first.”

            No visible reaction at first, except that maybe his fingers readjusted their grip on the spear’s haft. Then he spoke through gritted teeth. “‘Take me. I’m yours.’ That’s what you said to them. To those… _vermin._ ”

            My fingers brushed my lips unconsciously. Of course. That’s how he’d found me. He must have woken up some time ago and started looking for me. And I’d been just stupid enough to assume I would be dead before Yasha found me. Now I was caught again. And this time, Yasha would think that… that I…

            “Yasha,” I began, my voice calm and placating. “Yasha, I wasn’t-” I saw the barest glimpse of a blur, then the demon was standing before me and my left cheek burst with pain.

            My jaw stretched noiselessly while my ears rang. Reeling and barely keeping my balance, I lifted my hand to my cheek, half-expecting to find it atomized. My fingers came back dry, but I could taste iron behind my lips. “Whore!” The word crashed against my head like a second slap. I looked tentatively up at Yasha’s face. Anger blotted over ever feature that normally looked soft or girlish. I saw his chest heave two shuddering breaths before he planted the head of his spear in the ground, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and jerked me closer to stand in his personal space. This close, he had to lean down a few inches to look me in the eyes as he bellowed, “Why did you run away from me?”

            Yasha’s face was like a blizzard, bending my spirit double, freezing my guts with terror till I felt they might drop right out of my body. I was shaking from head to toe. My hands twitched with the desire to reach up to prise Yasha’s fingers out of my hair, but I didn’t dare.

            Is it… strange at all? That the prospect of being eaten alive frightened me less than Yasha shouting at me? Perhaps, I suppose, I was afraid because I knew that if Yasha wanted to kill me, he’d have done it already. He’d have done it before I saw it coming.

            I spent too long mutely cowering, so Yasha shook me by the hair and thundered into my face a second time. “Answer me, bitch!”

            “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Please…” I was just babbling – buying time to put my panicked thoughts into words. “Please, forgi-”

            Yasha’s fist caught me in the gut and forced the wind from my lungs. Terrified tears were already streaming down my cheeks. I wanted to crumple to the ground, but I was kept standing by his grip on my scalp. “Maybe you didn’t hear the question right,” Yasha breathed, his fist tightening with fury. “I said, why. Did. You. Run. Away?”

            A slight twitch of his free hand warned me that he was ready to punish me for anything other than a quick reply. I blurted the first answer that came to mind, moaning with despair when I realized midway through that it was the truth: “I don’t want to be your bride. I just want to go home. I don’t want to be here…. I’m sorry.”

            “WHAT?” Yasha’s cry was so loud that it made me scream, and then it covered my scream like a tsunami.

            My trembling hands covered my throbbing abdomen. I could hardly breathe. In a barely intelligible sob I responded, “I’m sorry…”

            Apparently, that wasn’t what Yasha wanted to hear. With another tug, he forced me to stand perfectly upright, and then slapped my face a second time just as he let go of my hair. I went stumbling back and felt my feet slip away from the ground, but he closed the distance in and instant and took hold of my bicep, dragging me forcibly back on-balance. “You think it _matters_ whether you want to be my bride or not? I took Hiroshi-tan’s virginity. You _are_ my wife. We even made a deal of it – I didn’t _have_ to do that, you ungrateful little bitch! I did that because I’d _hoped_ it would help you accept reality. You _are_ my wife, and you can’t just decide that you don’t like it and run away.”

            As he ranted, the memory of Yasha mumbling in his sleep came hovering to the top of my memory, like dust bunnies in a bathtub. It made no sense. This anger didn’t line up with the evidence.  

            “Why… Why are you doing this?”

            “Huh?” He sounded more indignant than confused.

            I knew that this was a dangerous, stupid gamble. The question I was about to ask would have put him on the defensive even if I caught him in a good mood. But on the other hand, it would at least make my motives clear. Maybe he’d at least pity me for still having doubts. 

            So without meeting his glacial stare I asked, “Why take me? Why keep me alive and talk sweetly to me? This is all just a game to you, isn’t it? It shouldn’t matter… what I do… what happ-”

            “Idiot!” Yasha roared in my face. He grabbed my other bicep and shook me, making me cringe with renewed terror while tears fled down my face. “You think this is a joke? You think I fed you and bathed you and brought you medicine and blue-balled myself while I sucked you off all as some kind of _game?_ Are you fucking stupid?” He shook me again and I cowered, sobbing, in expectation of another slap. But he had more to say first.

            “I’ve been honest with you this whole time, Hiroshi Sato! I really _do_ mean to keep you as my bride. That’s why it _hurts me_ when you disobey me and run off, and I find you with some…” His rant broke off for a moment, face going blank. As I watched, his pupils contracted to tiny specks, then expanded into gaping wells of ink. His fingers dug into my arms even tighter. My fingertips started going cold. “That’s another thing… Just what _were_ you doing with those vermin, Hiroshi?” No more Hiroshi-tan.

            I caught his suspicion in an instant. “Nothing! I wasn’t-”

            “Don’t lie to me, whore!” Yasha belted, and I groaned as I thought I could feel the bones in my arms creaking. “You said, ‘Take me, I’m all yours.’ Don’t tell me that was nothing!”

            “No!” I squealed in desperation. “They wanted to eat me!” Then when Yasha didn’t immediately scream back in my face, I started to choke out syllables between gulps for oxygen, “I knew I… couldn’t… outrun them, and I… gave up. I wanted… it to be… over-”

            “Stupid!” Yasha interrupted, this time at a shout of only middling volume. “You’re too stupid for your own good. You think they’d have stopped at just eating you?” 

            “What…” I was so baffled I didn’t know what else to say.

            “The only warm flesh they’ve seen in months, and you think they’d only have eaten you? You’d have been lucky if they snapped your neck while they were raping your throat!” This was hysterical and ludicrous (one of them clearly hadn’t even had any sexual characteristics), but Yasha was fully into his tirade now. “If I’d come just a moment later, it would have been too late. I couldn’t bear to see anyone else touching my bride… I’d fucking kill you before I let you fall into some other man’s arms. You’re mine!”

            He pulled me close until his eyes occupied my entire vision. It felt like sticking my head into a tiger’s open jaws. “You got that? You _belong_ to me, Hiroshi-tan! I don’t _want_ to be the villain here! I don’t _want_ to make you suffer and live through hell. I’d much rather make you happy and smiling and perfect. But if you treat me like a monster, I can absolutely act like one!”

            I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It was insane. It was _insane_. But there was no way to dismiss this vehemence as feigned. He meant every word. I think that was what frightened me most of all.

            “Please,” I gasped, dizzy and breathless. “Please… don’t hurt me… Yasha-sama…”

            The ‘sama’ clearly took him by surprise. His eyes went wide, grip slackening just a little bit. But in another moment, I saw it had been a mistake; something came into his gaze that was so cold and so beastly, I nearly fainted from that look alone.

            “Alright then,” he said mildly. “I think I know how to get my message across.”

            With that, he reached down, grabbed me around the waist, and slung me over his shoulder. I hardly had time to look for purchase before the demon turned about and dashed off with inhuman speed. The world blurred around me like rivers of paint. The lights I’d followed into the wilderness spun and swerved like aimless gnats overhead. Though Yasha held me too close to fall, visions of my body tumbling and smearing across the parched earth haunted me as I rocked and jostled upon his shoulder.

            _Oh God, please, please awaken me from this nightmare._

            I think I eventually fainted. That would explain why I never noticed us returning to Yasha’s lair until I suddenly bolted awake, lying on my front on the sleeping mat. The pelt he’d been sleeping on was now thrown over the futon for added cushion. I had just enough time to push myself up onto my elbows before Yasha’s weight came bearing down on my back.

            Blind instinct took hold, and I tried to crawl out from under him. Yasha just grabbed my head and pinned it against the pelt. “Quit struggling, bitch. You know you brought this on yourself.”

            “Please,” I moaned into the fur.

            Yasha ignored me and tore every scrap of clothing off my body, just as he had the night before. This time, he took the extra measure of ripping them into tiny scraps beyond mending. I kept begging for forgiveness, for mercy, for compromise, for a chance to atone; the beast made no reply until he unceremoniously drove his cock into my hole with a single, brutal thrust.

            My scream ripped at my throat like a claw and bruised my own ears with its echo. I thought Yasha’s cock was going to kill me. It was… worse than I can really describe. The pain increased with each passing second. Every thrust seemed to grate its way deeper through my skin and muscle, finding new nerve endings to torment.

            “Do you feel this, Hiroshi-tan?” Yasha asked, covering my mouth with a palm and speaking directly into my ear. “If I didn’t care about you at all… if I really _wanted_ to hurt you, then this is what our sex would feel like all the time. This is me trying to cause you pain. Is this how you want me to treat you, Hiroshi Sato?”

            He lifted his hand from my mouth to let me speak, and I hastened to force words out my sore and strangled throat. “No.”

            “Do you want me to treat you nicely like I did on our wedding night?”

            “Yes…”  
            His hips drew back till just the tip of his member was throbbing in my rectum, poised for another thrust.

            “Are you sorry that you ran away from me?”

            “Yes… I’m so, so, so sorry, Yasha-sama…”

            A pause, and then he started to slide his cock slowly back into me. But by then, I was already so raw that the gradual pace hardly made a difference. My fingers clutched at the fur as I whimpered, “Please… please stop. It hurts so much. I’m going to die…”

            “No you won’t; don’t be melodramatic. I’m infusing you with my aura, and it will hold your body together for as long as I need it to.” Once more, he grabbed a fistful of my hair and tugged my head back, rolling a few swift, careless thrusts into my ass.

            “Nnooo!” I cried, shaking under him. “No more, please! Please, Yasha-sama!”

            “Then apologize properly,” Yasha said, rolling his hips without giving me a moment’s rest. “Say, ‘I’m sorry. Please forgive me, Yasha my husband.’”

            I suppose up to then, I had never used the word ‘husband.’ It was one of the few humiliations I’d managed to evade so far. Calling him that would make it more real in my mind. The guilt I would feel…

            My ruminations were taking too long for Yasha’s liking, and he shifted his thrusts to hit at a more painful angle. I felt as though it was a knife being driven into my belly instead of the demon’s member.

            “I’m sorry,” I gasped, my nails clawing deeper into that heavy fur pelt.

            “And?” Yasha thrust again at the same angle, but more slowly, grinding into my bowels.

            The pain was unbearable… I offered my family a silent prayer for forgiveness and steeled myself, thinking, ‘ _It’s just a word. I’m just making words with my mouth to appease his ego. It means nothing. It changes nothing. I still hate him._ ’

            “I’m s-sorry… please… for-forgive me, Yasha-sama my h-husband…”

            Yasha’s hips gradually came to a stop. “Hmm… I’m not quite satisfied with that…” He reflected with that tone of callous mockery I’d become so used to.

            For a moment, I was allowed a short reprieve as Yasha withdrew from my ass and I could catch my breath, pressing my tear-soaked face onto the back of my forearm. But all too soon, Yasha flipped me onto my back and spread my legs out wide in front of him. “Yes, this is better,” he said, eyes dark with gleeful menace. “This is all pretty pointless if I can’t even see your eyes. I need to be sure you mean it.”

            Helpless to stop him, I brought my hands up to my face and groaned as that monster’s cock pushed into me again. He pulled my hands aside almost immediately and pinned them above my head, glaring into my eyes. “Don’t hide from me, Hiroshi-tan. Now say it again so I can see you.”

            “Yasha-sama…” I pleaded, trying to stop my innards from squeezing around his member and making the pain even worse.

            “Say it!” Yasha demanded, and he delivered another stab to motivate me.

            I screamed and writhed, but nothing intelligible came from my lips. For one, there was something paralytic in his gaze. It was hard to speak while staring into his eyes even at the best of times, so trying to speak through this kind of constant agony was a titanic exertion. Moreover, being prompted to call the demon my husband with our eyes locked made me feel as though all the sprits of my family were watching and listening – waiting to see just how low I would drag the Sato name. It was unthinkable.

            “Obstinate cunt,” Yasha muttered after a while when I allowed nothing but screams. Changing tactics, he came to a steady halt with his dick hilted in my anus. The tip of his member made a bump on my abdomen. He kept one hand pressed down on both my wrists, then used his free hand to cup my balls. His grip wasn’t tight, but it instantly drove me into wide-eyed silence. “I’ve already told you what to say, Hiroshi-tan. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

            “Please, Yasha-sama,” I gulped. I wanted to clench my thighs together, but his hips kept my legs parted and vulnerable. “You don… don’t have to…”

            “Then prove me wrong,” Yasha said, and slowly he started to squeeze his fingers around my sac.

            This broke me down pretty quickly. I salved my guilt with the thought that my father and brothers were all men – they might have acted similarly in my position. “I’m sorry!” I yelped, voice cracking. “Please forgive me, my husband Yasha-sama!”

            His fingers stopped growing tighter, but they didn’t relax, and his expression stayed just as stony as ever. “Now say, ‘I love you, Yasha my husband.’”

            I gasped at the mere demand, staring at him in horror. I _couldn’t_ say that. That would never be forgiven.

            Yasha clearly guessed what I was thinking and tightened his grip by another degree.

            I squealed and shook and twisted my shoulders, but planted my hips as still as possible. I could feel pain spreading like roots from my scrotum up through the trunk of my body and mingling with the blazing pain in my sphincter. I thought my very brain would fracture, caught between these two torments. If this went on, my sanity would break before my testes.

            When I still hadn’t yielded after a few seconds, Yasha leaned closer and spoke in a mild, reasonable tone. “You know, your balls are practically useless to me. I don’t need you to have them at all, and I _am_ prepared to rip them off if you keep choosing to be a disobedient wife. This is all up to you, Hiroshi-tan. You know what I want to hear.”

            He was too cold – to matter of fact – to be doubted. He would do it. He would do it, and he’d make sure I lived through every second of it.

            His fingers twitched, tightening by the merest micrometer, and I broke, crying out a choked, “I love you…” 

            The smile in Yasha’s eyes left his lips untouched. “Go on.”

            “My husband… Yasha-sama…”

            His fingers didn’t move. “Again.”

            “I love you, Yasha-sama my husband.” His fingers started to grow tighter, sending me into a frenzied panic as the pain lanced down my legs and up to the backs of my eyes. “Yasha-sama my husband! I love you!” But there was no reprieve, and I kept babbling in terror. “Please stop! I love you, my husband Yasha-sama! I love you, please forgive me Yasha-sama my husband! Please forgive me, my husband! I love you Yasha-sama! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love…”

            It was too much. His fingers were constricting slowly but mercilessly. I cracked, and one last flash of instinct took hold of my lips. In a mindless falsetto I screamed, “YASHA-KUN!”

            The pressure diminished by a fraction of a degree, and it gave a tiny glimmer of hope to my addled brain. My whole body convulsed with sobs after every few wheezing words. “Please, my husband Yasha-kun! Please forgive me! I’m so, so, so sorry that I ran away from you, Yasha-kun! It was wrong, and I’m so sorry, and I promise I’ll never do it again. I love you so much, Yasha-kun. Please forgive me, my husband. I love you, Yasha-kun. I love you, my Yasha-kun. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry…”

            All throughout this fit of hysteria, Yasha’s fingers had been relaxing in small increments, until finally letting go of my scrotum. My balls had sustained no permanent damage, but the pain was still ricocheting through all my nerves. As I lay gasping out apology after apology, Yasha stared at me with creamy satisfaction. Once more, he had won. After waiting an appropriate pause, he leaned down and kissed my tear-drenched cheek. “I love you too, Hiroshi-tan.”

            I lay still, sobbing and trying to catch my breath for almost a minute. My whole body tingled with pins and needles. Too much had happened for me to process it all yet. But for now, I would just bask in the relief that at least it was over.

            So I thought.

            Just as the vertigo began to fade, Yasha pulled himself upright and announced, “Now, let’s finish this.” Casually he flipped me onto my front again, pinned both my wrists to the small of my back, shoved his cock back into my abused, unresisting body, and started fucking me like a dog.

            Too depleted to scream, a groan of long-drawn agony seeped from my lips like juice pressed from an orange. I looked over my shoulder at my captor’s face and surprised myself with the tone of betrayal in my voice as I moaned, “Why… Yasha…”

            A small frown touched his lips, but he didn’t bother to slow down as he answered. “Don’t give me that, Hiroshi-tan. Don’t forget, this all started when you wouldn’t help me get off yesterday, and I’m _still_ pent up from that! Once your husband’s needs are met, then and only then will your punishment be over.

            “Now hold still. This won’t take much longer.”

            The pain as Yasha raped me inflated until it was the only thing occupying my perception. All else was obliterated. Mercifully, I was unconscious by the time he finished.

 

            No dreams nor insinuations intruded on the dark oblivion that stole me from that scene. I was as the new moon, transformed into a solid, invisible coin of pure yang nothingness. When I regained consciousness, it was less like waking up from sleep, more like emerging body and soul from a place of nonexistence with my mind wiped clean.

            Yasha was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes.

            His face was radiantly beautiful, and he smiled with bright sweetness as our eyes met. “おはいよ” he said in the gentlest of cooed greetings. His fingers stroked my cheek gently as a breeze, his touch as light and soft as a downy feather. “Good morning. You looked so beautiful while you were asleep, Hiroshi-tan. I’m glad I got to be right here when you woke up.” Then he leaned in close and nuzzled our noses together, grinning like some carefree child.

            Not yet fully awake, I didn’t reply to any of this, though I think a small, reactive smile was tugging at my lips.

            “Do you feel okay, Hiroshi-tan?” Yasha asked with gentle concern. “You’ve been asleep for almost three days, and I’ve been feeding you medicine all this time. You should be pretty well recovered by now.”

            This puzzled me. Medicine? Asleep? Recovered? What was he talking about?

            The realization hit me twice – first in a total, gestalt impression, and then in a continuous strand of memories, like a ball of string coming unraveled. My whole body flared with pain at the memory of what Yasha had done to me.

            That face – that sweet, gentle, beautiful face that smiled at me as one youthful lover to another – was suddenly the focal point of a blind, overwhelming terror. I thrashed and scrabbled under the close-tucked blankets, gasping in panic as I tried to retreat from the visage of that vicious siren.

            But Yasha was quick to take hold of my shoulders and drag me back to him, pressing his bare, lean torso against me. “Hey, hey, hey!” he cooed in placating tones, looking truly surprised by my reaction as he rubbed my back and shoulders. “It’s okay, don’t panic! You’re safe, Hiroshi-tan. You’re safe. I’m not going to hurt you.”

            Terror kept a strangle-hold on my beating heart, but I gradually grew still and coherent as Yasha held me tenderly and whispered reassuring nothings to me. Then the tears began to roll down my cheeks. There was only one thing I felt safe saying just then: “I’m sorry, Yasha-kun…”

            He laid a finger upon my lips, smiling tenderly. “None of that, now. It’s over. Like I told you, it was 3 days ago, and I’ve forgiven you. There’s nothing more to be afraid of.”

            I didn’t trust that. “But… you were… so angry…”

            An exhalation not quite a chuckle came from Yasha’s throat. “Of course I was. You’d done something very bad, and you needed to be punished for it. So I punished you.” He stroked my cheek again, holding me tight and looking into my eyes. “I’m not going to hold a grudge over something that’s over and dealt with, darling. It’s like I keep saying to you: I want to treat you well and make my Hiroshi-tan happy. I love you.” Then he pressed a kiss to my lips, his hands holding me warm and secure.

            I wasn’t reassured. Not the least bit. On the contrary, seeing those two, extreme sides of the demon, knowing that one was always beneath the surface, and knowing that Yasha could easily call on either of them at will to put me in line, I was even more wary of him. He was a monster.

            Once I was able, I cast my glance around my environs.

            My mind didn’t even _try_ to process what I was seeing. I stared this way and that, giving a few long seconds’ attention to each direction and failing to make sense of it.

            “Where are we?” I asked at last.

            “Beneath the sea of the Underworld,” Yasha said matter-of-factly. He grinned with deep satisfaction at my blank stare. “We’re on a platform in a kind of… oxygenated bubble under the sea. It’s kind of a demon take on realm magic – nobody but me can even find it, let alone break in.”

            I had to look around a second time. Yasha’s explanation seemed, frankly, incredible. But did help resolve the things around me into discernible shapes.

            The walls and ceiling all had the same dark, bluish-green color, unbroken by corners. So it really was round. And as I stared, I could just barely make out a kind of flowing, swirling ripple that covered every surface without pattern. That, along with the color, made it really seem like water.

            Then, as I watched, a tremendous, dark shape appeared above our heads. It was the perfect, moving silhouette of an overlarge fish. I watched as it swam past, eventually disappearing somewhere past the further wall. Oddly, I found the apparition calming rather than frightening. Still staring at the point where it disappeared, I asked, “Why are we here?”

            Yasha’s low chuckle pulled my attention back to him. “That should be obvious, Hiroshi-tan. I might not hold a grudge, but I’m not a fool who won’t learn from his mistakes either. I brought you here to keep you safe, and so that you won’t have the temptation to leave without me again. In here, you won’t be able to leave unless I allow it.” He looked at me firmly for a second, then smiled and gave me a kiss. “It’s just a precaution, Hiroshi-tan. I know you learned your lesson and you’re going to be a good boy from now on.”

            “Right…” Quite suddenly, I felt fatigue dragging at me again. Hope abandoned me. It left a gaping cavity in my belly, and sleep seemed like the only thing that would numb this cold, isolated feeling now.

            “Really, though… I’m glad you’re here, Hiroshi-tan,” Yasha said, hugging me close and kissing my brow. I gave a little hum of acknowledgement, and presently he lay me back down to rest. “Don’t get up if you’re not ready yet. But don’t fall asleep too fast! I’m going to make breakfast for us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to assure my readers now that this was as violent as the story is going to get. So if you managed to make it this far but found that chapter a bit rough, you're clear of the hardest hurdle. 
> 
> I was working really flat-out to get this one finished and proof-read, so I apologize if I missed any mistakes in my first editing session. 
> 
> From here, the remaining chapters in Book 2 will take a more episodic approach. I'm already working on chapter 3, but it's still in the drafting stages at this point, so I can't guarantee anything until the end of June. I hope to see you all then. 
> 
> Please feel free to comment, ask questions, and offer critique! ^^


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It was time. It had been put off long enough._   
>  _Tonight, I would try to kill him._

 

            Over the next few days, I was walking on eggshells around Yasha. I couldn’t pretend to like him, nor hide my reluctance whenever the demon pulled me into his ardent embrace, but I remained sufficiently timid and obedient to avoid his anger. Yasha, in turn, was very attentive to me, keeping up his façade of cloying domesticity.

            Once, on about the fourth day as Yasha was telling me about something he’d seen while swimming in the seas of the Underworld, I’d heard him suddenly say, “Hey! You listening?”

            I’d been spacing out at that time, and the harsh abruptness of his tone made me flinch out of my reverie. Fearfully, I’d bowed in front of him and blurted, “Please forgive me, Yasha-sama!”

            My eyes screwed shut when I saw his hand move toward me, only to feel a gentle prod at my forehead. “Enough with that ‘sama’ bullshit,” he said cajolingly. “Remember, I’m your _husband._ There’s no need to be so formal with me. ‘Yasha-kun’ is what I like to hear best from my sweet little wife.”

            A week later, Yasha acquired a larger and more permanent bathtub made of marble. The floor of the realm had shaken when he entered, carrying it on his back and grinning in spite of the exertion. That first night after he acquired it, my captor insisted despite my protest that we bathe together.

            It was a very nice bath, I’ll admit. Yasha had added a number of oils and perfumes to make the water more aromatic, and the tub was big enough to stretch my legs out fully and still have my shoulders below the water. I was constantly on edge, especially when he started to scrub my back for me, but it _did_ start to feel good after a minute or two. Gradually, I began to untense.

            Then, his hands reached around and started to tease at my nipples.

            This was one of his favorite forms of foreplay. It didn’t _always_ precede sex, though. Sometimes Yasha would just toy with my nipples until I groaned and blushed before letting me go. Since he’d already gotten off twice before that morning’s expedition, I guessed that that was what would happen now.

            But after a minute, I felt him lean closer and his lips brush against my skin. Kisses appeared on my neck like blooming flowers, and his dick started to push against my waist. The moment I tried to pull away, his arms crossed my chest and held me still, hands palming my chest where he could keep playing with my nipples.

            “Quit it!” I yelped, hoping I could divert his attention before this went any further.

            “What for?” he asked disinterestedly, not pulling away. His lips fluttered against my skin as he spoke.

            “This… It feels weird! I hate it!” I squirmed, trying at least to get my neck out of his reach. It almost worked, but then Yasha just leaned forward and nipped the top of my ear between his teeth. “Stop! Yasha! You sick pervert!”

            That was a mistake.

            Yasha growled. I felt it rumbling in my ear and down my neck, and I seized up stiff with fear. Then he spoke in a low, husky whisper, mocking and dangerous. “Oh Hiroshi-tan, you shameless hypocrite. You call _me_ the pervert when you clearly enjoy what I’m doing to you?” Bracing his shoulders against the rim of the tub, the demon lifted his hips, raising me up until my crotch broke the water’s surface. My prick stood upright, twitching as Yasha’s breath continued to tickle my ear and neck with his words. “You say it feels weird, but it’s made you hard in just a few seconds. Doesn’t that make _you_ the weird one, Hiroshi-tan?”

            “N-no! You…”

            “And the way you smell…” He inhaled deeply, pressing his lips to my neck again and pinching my nipples to make me gasp. “You always give off this _scent_ when you’re horny, and I can tell just how bad you want to be fucked. It’s irresistible! You can’t just seduce me like this and then tell me to keep my hands to myself!”

            I tried to get a word in edgewise so I could tell him just how absurd he was, but he kept tormenting the most sensitive regions of my body so I couldn’t get more than a word out at a time. To make things worse, I could feel his hot, hard member grinding up between my cheeks, his shaft rubbing against a hole that he’d widened with regular penetration.

            “S-stop…” I whined, struggling to twist my hips to a less accessible angle. But unlucky for me, Yasha had better leverage, and he always seemed able to maneuver my body into the position he desired. Before a minute had passed, he managed to slip the tip of his cock into my hole and pull my hips all the way down to his lap.

            After about a dozen times in the last week, it no longer hurt when his phallus invaded my sphincter, but the sensation still made me cringe. It was the inside of my very body being violated. And though I told myself that the act must eventually lose its novelty, the demon never seemed to weary of forcing his dick inside me.

            “This feels so _right,_ ” Yasha moaned as his hips worked beneath me. “Like your ass-pussy was just being saved all these years for my dick to claim it.”

            “Gross!” I yelled, straining to pull myself forward.

            “Idiot.” One of Yasha’s hands left my chest for a moment to grab my dick, squeezing it in a tight fist till I whimpered. A bead of clear pre rolled onto his hand, just as he’d wanted. “You’re still trying to protest your innocence, even when you’re clearly as horny as I am? Don’t try to pin all your lewdness on me, Hiroshi-tan.”

            At more-or-less this point, I decided it was no use trying to argue with Yasha’s perverted logic. I couldn’t win, and he always managed to push things even further. Galling as it was to accept his abuse without rebuttal, Yasha did at least go faster once I stopped fighting back.

            A few minutes later… and Yasha unleashed a torrent of seed into my body for the third time that day. I gripped the edge of the tub with one hand and Yasha’s thigh with the other. Even after a week, Yasha’s loads remained prodigiously voluminous, and my gut started to bulge with the weight of his seed. I groaned, bent nearly double while the demon’s hot breath panted against my shoulder. He took a minute to catch his breath before ruffling my hair and nuzzling the back of my neck.

            “That’s a good wife,” he whispered. “You give your husband such pleasure. Now… allow me to reward you.” Then he bit my ear playfully and… ‘helped me’ to reach climax. I never asked him to (in fact, I frequently insisted that he lay off it), but the man took a truly perverse pleasure in knowing that he could make me cum. So it was his practice to make me orgasm at least once for every time he did. I resented it. Over time, that resentment spread to encompass my own body – to my flesh which surrendered to Yasha’s whims again and again and again.

 

            Aside from the tub, Yasha made a number of other additions to the realm’s furnishings. I now owned three new sets of clothing, a jade comb for which I had no use, a bottle of perfume that Yasha insisted I wear every day, a porcelain cup for tea, and a chest of drawers that fit all my possessions with room to spare. I didn’t ask for any of these things, but Yasha was nothing if not eager to impress me.

            One night, days after my hands had stopped trembling when I woke up and I could finally speak without a stammer, Yasha came home with an enormous reptile on the end of his spear. Nearly as tall as Yasha himself, bristling with thorny spines, and possessing a jaw like an inverted hedgehog, I couldn’t even pretend not to be impressed. It looked like a snake that had tried to morph into a dragon, then given up in bitterness after a century when it lost the ability to smile without lacerating its gums.

            With little to do but sit and think all day, I’d settled into a bored stupor while Yasha was out hunting. In my tedium, I couldn’t help but jolt and gasp at the sight of it. This reaction was clearly pleasing to my captor’s ego, but there was no point trying to take it back now.

            “Yasha…kun…  Just what is that thing?”

            “Not a clue,” Yasha said, his smug grin unfaltering. “But they’re tasty, whatever they are. Tricky to catch, too. They’re also about the only creature I find naturally occurring in both this and the seas of the human world.”

            “Really? Only this creature?” I’d have been happy to let the matter drop here, but by now I’d learned that when Yasha was in the mood to brag about something, he would pester me with unsolicited facts for the next hour if I didn’t ask questions on my own. The best thing was to engage him for just a few minutes, let him get the boasting out of his system, and then enjoy a half-hour’s silence as he sat preening and pleased with himself.

            “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive,” Yasha said, lifting the beast’s scaly chin with the tip of a finger. He looked into one of its vacant blue eyes as he spoke. “I suppose they’re a relic of a more ancient time. They can flee as skillfully as they fight, and can switch between the two at a moment’s notice. Most people haven’t even got a chance of catching one.”

            “So… how did you manage it?”

            I saw from the boyish way his eyes lit up that this was exactly the right question. “Oh babe, I wish you could have seen it! So there I was…”

            The account of his struggle took about twenty minutes, during which time he went over to his ‘work table’ at the floor’s edge and started to clean the scaly monster, dropping its offal into the gap between the floor and the roiling bubble-wall. (This made the realm whiff a little, but odors tended not to linger in this place for long.) As much as I wanted not to seem interested in his hunting story… in truth, I was enthralled, and it was hard to hide.

            I couldn’t help it. Every day, after Yasha had finished having sex and sharing breakfast with me, he would leap through the wall of the realm, and I’d be left alone for hours upon hours at a time. When my trauma was still fresh, it was a welcome solitude. I would stay in bed, sleep for long stretches, do some light exercise, and then sit alone to collect my thoughts. But every day, as my protective shell peeled away little by little, fear gave way to tedium, though my anxiety was hardly abated. I was so bored, and so unbearably alone, that even Yasha’s unpleasant company seemed preferable to my constant boredom. The demon’s battle with the whatever-it-was was the most entertaining thing I’d heard since being taken to the realm. Even as I winced at the sight of the dark ichor oozing across the man’s palms, my starving mind clung to every word.

            When he came to the end of his tale, I was left with a grin on my lips, though I took care not to meet his eyes. The expected silence only lasted a few seconds before Yasha turned to me and said, “So what have you been up to today?”

            “Um… I…” was as far as I got before Yasha drown me out in a burst of raucous laughter.

            “That was a silly question, huh?” he said after catching his breath a little. “You must be so bored and jittery sitting here all day, drumming your knees while your handsome prince is out having adventures.

            My eyes nearly popped out of my skull under pressure of the scream I had to hold back. “Maybe… a little bit.”

            Yasha chuckled and turned back to the… let’s call it a ‘Gnarl-Tooth Paddler’ for now. He looked back to it and started flaying the muscles from the bones. “No need to worry, my Hiroshi-tan. Tomorrow your clever husband will bring you plenty of things to keep you stimulated.” He paused for a moment in thought. “Your father was a copyist, wasn’t he?”

            “He… yes.” I had to keep reminding myself that Yasha had read my travel pass, and so knew my basic family biography. But even so, it bothered me. He mentioned my father in the past tense, and always so impersonally, as if they’d never met.

            “So then, you must really love books.”

            I blinked, thrown off track by the shift of thought. “Uh… Well we… mostly copied edicts and illustrations… but I _do_ read.”

            “Perfect!” Yasha said, wiping his knife against a cloth. “I know where to find some scrolls and books that you’ll _love_. That should give you something to do while I’m away.” While I was still processing this, the demon started picking through a few of the creature’s organs. “Now, which pieces do you want for dinner? The heart and livers are my favorite, but you might like the tongue; it’s perfect with a few berries and spring on-”

            “Oh!” I piped, feeling my neck starting to prickle. “No, that’s… you can keep it. I, uh… I don’t really eat flesh.”

            Yasha looked up sharply, making me jump a little. “Come again?”

            His displeasure was palpable, and I felt my stammer creeping back. “I… I d-don’t eat flesh. S-s-sorry, I… I a-actually thought you… might have b-been stripping that f-for its s-s-skin.” I tried to offer a sheepish, placating smile, but my lips were infected with that nervous twitch.

            Yasha frowned, looking confused and frustrated. “What do you mean you don’t eat flesh? I bring back fish and crabs and oysters all the time!”

            “It’s… not the s-s-same,” I stammered. “Fish are s-simple like b-bugs. They’ve g-got different kinds of… of muscles… and n-no legs…” I wasn’t meeting Yasha’s eyes, but I could feel his gaze on me, making my face burn hotter and hotter with every word. “B-but you talk about that… thing… Y-you said that… it’s intelligent. I w-wouldn’t… f-feel…”

            “But there were cattle in your village. I saw them!” Yasha sounded even testier. It forced my chest to tighten, my voice to come out like a squawk. I felt a smoldering core of frustration in my belly, to be so afraid and ashamed of explaining something so simple.

            “Those a-are oxen! You c-can’t eat those! T-they have to p-p-pull carts and p-plows, and – and give m-milk. They’re t-too valuable to…”

            “They’re too tasty _not_ to eat!” Yasha countered with mounting impatience. “Seriously, you’ve _never_ eaten them? Not even when they died of old age?”

            “N-n-no!” God, what a disgusting thought… “They’re carted o-off to b-be… be… uh… m-made into-to… into leather… That’s b-b-bad enough…” I hoped I didn’t have to go into more detail. I was wringing my trembling hands, clenching my eyes, biting my lip with humiliation. I hadn’t had a stammer like this since I was seven. I hated Yasha for inflicting me with this – and for putting me in a scenario where I had to keep speaking even when I wanted to keep silent.

            When I snuck a glance at him, Yasha was staring unhappily at the gnarl-tooth paddler’s corpse. Finally, he looked up from his sulk and caught my eye. “Look…” he said with a forced patience that went out of its was to make sure I _knew_ that his patience was forced. “I don’t care about your strange, backwater customs. I went to a lot of trouble to catch us this meal. You’re _my_ wife now, and I haven’t tasted any flesh in more than a week, so we’re having this for dinner. We’re _both_ having it, and you’re going to learn to appreciate the taste of good, red flesh. Got it?”

            I could see the folds of my kimono trembling while I shook in fear and indignation. After a few seconds, as Yasha’s stare made it clear he was waiting for a verbal answer, I nodded and offered a quiet, “Okay…” That seemed to be enough for now.

            Yasha held his hands out over the gap, and briny water started to spout from his palms and fingers, rinsing them clean. Then he picked up his carving knife and rinsed it clean as well. This was a trick I’d seen him do a few times now, but it still unsettled me in ways I can’t quite articulate.

            An uncomfortable silence grew like piling snow around us, and neither the sizzling grill nor the (admittedly) mouthwatering aroma could drown it out. Even when it was time to eat, Yasha spoke only to call me over, and I only to thank him for the meal.

            The gnarl-tooth flesh had smelled much better than it actually tasted. The flavor was palatable – even pleasant – for about the first two seconds that I held it in my mouth. But the succulent taste gave way to something like oily, rancid butter, and then faded entirely so I was left chewing some thick, stringy… _cud_ , for lack of a better word. An image came to mind of the poor gnarl-tooth trying desperately to swim away – to escape from Yasha even as I had done. But the demon had caught up with it, made sport of it, and finally speared it to death.

            Yasha was watching me eat. I knew what he would say if I seemed too picky. So taking a few more grilled onions to ease their passage, I made a point of eating the next three or four bites of flesh with affected gusto. Before long, his gaze wandered elsewhere, and I could slow down.

            Thanks to that display, I was able to stop after only five bites and not seem too ungrateful. It was simultaneously the most meager and the most filling meal I’d ever eaten. Again, I was haunted by the image of the gnarl-tooth thrashing for survival, screeching to be left alone while Yasha’s hand clenched around its neck and extinguished its life. My lips and fingers still felt oily and contaminated – polluted by the creature’s dead blood.

            _But I guess it’s already too late for that._

After lapping up the last of his own portion, Yasha finally broke the silence. “I brought us something else.”

            Getting up, Yasha walked back to his work table where he’d left his rucksack earlier, and pulled out a big, gorgeously round watermelon. “Feel like a bit of dessert?” He asked with a tiny smile and a forced quirk in his voice.

            I laid a hand on my stomach, which felt uneasy with all the heavy flesh inside it. “I’m… pretty full.”

            The smile slipped off, and Yasha turned the fruit about contemplatively. “Me too, actually. I guess it’ll make a good breakfast.”

            The watermelon went back in its bag, and the silence rekindled. It grew thicker and heavier as Yasha filled the bathtub with brine, then mixed in a few oils and potions that extracted the salt and turned the water soft and fragrant. After stirring the water with the head of his spear and raising it to a comfortably hot temperature, his muttered “ready” didn’t so much break the silence as agitate it, like ripples on a lake’s surface.

            It was the quietest bath I’d ever taken with Yasha. His usual banter had all but evaporated. When he scrubbed my back as per his usual ritual, his touch felt cold, mechanical, and impersonal.

            But that’s not me complaining. I still hated Yasha, after all, and I always cringed at his attempts to be friendly or intimate with me. How nice it was to feel _him_ being affectionate only out of obligation for a change. Best of all, once he was finished, Yasha moved away, and we sat without touching one another to soak. It was so lovely that it took an act of will not to grin with pleasure.

            After a while, though, the bath did what hot baths are wont to do. The tension between us gradually melted until the silence became something comfortable, like a snug blanket. My nerves were able to settle down at last, and I became so relaxed that I didn’t even mind when Yasha decided he was ready to speak again.

            “Have you ever read _Santaro and the Phoenix Princess_?” he asked mildly.

            “Mm-m,” I shook my head.

            “It’s one of my favorites,” Yasha ventured. “I have it hidden away somewhere, so I can bring it tomorrow. It’s a bit worn out, but I’ve read it enough times I can help you with any words that might be faded.” A sudden thought brought some fresh enthusiasm to his voice. “Maybe you could print a fresh copy of it! I can bring you whatever materials you need!”

            “Mhm,” I hummed, leaning back in the tub. Then I frowned after a moment’s consideration. “Wait, what?”

            “You can print a new one,” Yasha said. “Isn’t that what your family did? Your father trained you how, right?”

            The peaceful silence was spoiling fast. I tried hard to keep my tone neutral with my reply: “Yes, but… I would need a press for that. Otherwise I’d just get ink smeared on the page in an illegible mess.”

            Yasha’s chipper expression froze. “Can you… make one? If I brought you the materials?”

            I gave him a frank look. “I’m not a wright, nor a carpenter.”

            Yasha’s expression hadn’t changed. “But… if you already _had_ the parts, you could put them together, couldn’t you?”

            “Probably not…” I rubbed my hand across my face. This wasn’t the first time such thoughts had come to me during the last week, but I’d never had to delve into them seriously until now. “In the first place, our press was assembled from parts brought over from China. I don’t think there’s anywhere in Japan to get them. And even if there were, I wouldn’t know how they’re put together.”

            “Your old man didn’t teach you?

            “No!” Now it was my turn to be frustrated. “I was only the third son. Only Dad and my oldest brother knew how the machines were built. Grandfather died before he could finish his diagram, and Dad had to pick up where he left off.”

            I pushed the heels of my hands against my eyes, now talking mostly to myself. “It was going so well… Mr. Shiragawa was finding buyers for the prints and everything. Dad was going to make printed books common and improve literacy. It could be decades… _centuries_ before anyone tries to popularize block printing again.”

            I was still for a long minute, face buried in my hands. Then Yasha’s voice cut through the silence icily. “You are so unbelievably full of yourself.” I looked up to see Yasha sneering at me through the steam.

            Where did that come from?

            Once he had my attention, he carried on haughty and self-righteous. “You talk about your old man like he was some… inspirational visionary, destined to change the face of the nation. Do you even hear the way you’re putting on airs? Who do you think you are?” Abruptly, he darted toward me and gripped the edge of the tub behind my shoulder to loom over me. “You should feel lucky that I came along when I did. You were the third son of some eccentric block printer with delusions of grandeur who couldn’t even afford to move his family to the city for the sake of his crazy business. Instead, he sends his youngest and most expendable son out to run his errands for him. If not for me, you’d probably have ended up married off to some ugly tanner’s daughter, and then your father and brothers would have been ‘too busy’ with their hairbrained business to even print out a letter for their ‘dear Hiroshi.’

            “Instead, you get to be with a gorgeous husband who feeds and clothes you richly as a prince and bathes you in perfume every day. So why don’t you just get over your little village already? Stop trying to drag them into every single discussion we-”

            “ _You_ were the one who brought it up!” All throughout Yasha’s tirade, I’d kept my hands pressed tight over my mouth to keep my outrage from spilling out. _I don’t need this. I don’t deserve this._ The whole thing was cruel and unfair for more reasons than I could enumerate, but that fact at least was present and irrefutable. Yasha had been the one to mention my father, and then dragged out the discussion.

            The demon’s body tensed and his nostrils flared. Through his eyes, I saw the tipped peaks of jagged rocks rising from the ocean and felt myself plummeting headlong toward their merciless fury. But something in Yasha’s manner retreated at the last second, and my feet were standing on a narrow ledge by the merest purchase while the waves crashed below me. Yasha’s panting breath kissed my face like a mist. I found that the tips of his fingers were pressed against my neck and collar bone, though I honestly couldn’t say when they’d come to rest there.

            I held that oceanic gaze with my spine flat against the back of the tub. I had just won this battle with a single blow. Even Yasha’s mind wasn’t twisted enough to deny it.

            But he was too proud to acknowledge it.

            After two minutes – two full, solid, unhurried minutes spent glaring into each other’s eyes – Yasha withdrew his hands and leaned back. “It’s time for bed,” he said with all the warmth of a breeze in February.

            Permitted to leave, I rose from the bath with carefully rigid dignity and dried off with a new towel, pretending not to feel my husband’s scorching stare all the while. When I moved to get my evening clothes, though, his voice intruded again on my thoughts.

            “Hiroshi.” No ‘tan’ that time.

            He stood naked, staring with direct intensity, his own towel trailing from one hand to the floor. My gaze trailed down from his eyes, his jaw, along his chiseled torso and the purple streaks tattooed on either flank, and finally settled where he meant to direct it: on the erect behemoth that rose only high enough to stand straight out from his waist, burdened as it was by its own weight.

            I cut my voice off from the groan that grew in my throat. I was in no mood for this. Now less than ever. “Yasha… kun… tonight is…”

            “Hiroshi.” If his voice had been a cold gust before, now it was a lump of snow stuck in the back of the shirt. He spoke in measured syllables, making sure I knew just how much effort it was taking for him to control his temper. “It was a very strenuous hunt. Right now, I’m very pent up and full of stress. A good wife helps to relieve her husband’s burdens. Don’t argue with me anymore.” There it was. His entire thesis summarized in a word.

            He pointed a finger at our futon. “Down on hands and knees.”

            _Dammit._ This was a position I particularly despised, and Yasha knew it. But I knew it wouldn’t help to argue now. I did as instructed, setting my jaw to prepare for the next indignity. Yasha in turn dropped to his knees behind me. His hands jerked my hips into position, and then he unceremoniously drove his member into my body. With equal disregard, he started fucking me, his pace too rough and sudden for me to adjust.

            I could only bear it in silence for a few seconds. My hole had been stretched enough not to be hurt by the sudden entry, but the pace… It’s not that he was _trying_ to hurt me as he had back in the cave, but he didn’t care about being gentle either.

            “Y-Yasha…” I said between pain-filled groans. “Yasha-kun, please… it hurts… Ya-” A hand closed over my mouth to stifle my pleas.

            “Keep quiet,” he growled, pressing close to my ear so I could feel every muscle of his upper body rolling and thrusting against me. “I told you, I’m pent up right now. Now arch your back more and hold still. I don’t need long tonight.”

            That was the worst. It wasn’t just that he was using my body for his enjoyment; it was that I had to hold myself upright under my own power and _let_ him fuck me. And why? To punish me for talking back.

            If nothing else, this session was at least fairly short. Perhaps four or five minutes, then a sharp thrust, an eye-watering chomp on my shoulder, and a hot gush of semen into my bowels.

            All my muscles were perfectly rigid, my lips sealed and uncomplaining. The two of us knelt there for a few seconds, panting hotly in the post-coital stillness. Then Yasha pulled out, flopped onto his side of the futon, and drew the blanket up over his body. “Good night, Hiroshi-tan.”

            I blinked, still on hands and knees. He didn’t get me off. That was a first. He didn’t even offer to help me clean up. And I knew he wasn’t the type to just forget. He’d done it as a deliberate snub.

            _Such a brat._

            Staring at the demon’s bare shoulders and neck, a smirk inched across my lips. How little he knew me if he thought that a punishment for me.

            I went back over to the tub for a rag to clean myself before bed. That accomplished, I held up a hand and stared at my fingers. There wasn’t even the smallest hint of a tremor. Outrage and lust for vengeance had burned all fear and hesitation out of me while the demon was screwing me on my knees. Steady enough for surgery. Perfect.

            Even while Yasha was still railing at me in the bath, I’d come to my decision. It was time. It had been put off long enough.

            Tonight, I would try to kill him.

            In my early teens, I’d passed through a phase of fascination with meditation and the powers of the mind. My father permitted me, on days when we weren’t too busy, to go pester our local priest for meditation lessons. It didn’t last long. My interest didn’t burn hotly anymore after the first few months, and Mr. Shiragawa had found a few regular buyers, which meant I was needed at home more often. Still, I _did_ pick up one trick very early in my catechism, and I retained the skill now. I could, with a little time to prepare myself, command my body to sleep for only a brief span, then wake up fully and without prompting.

            After laying myself on the mat with the blankets pulled up, I arranged my fingers into the pyou mudra, then stared at the ceiling while I fixed my intent in my mind. _In four hours, I will wake up and kill Yasha. In four hours, I will wake up and kill Yasha._

            I closed my eyes, fingers still folded and locked together. _In four hours, I will wake up and kill Yasha. In four hours, I will wake up and kill Yasha. In four hours, I will wake up and kill Yasha._

 

            Four hours later, I opened my eyes and found my body and mind thrumming with energy, like I’d had the best night’s sleep of my life. More importantly, I woke up with my purpose at the forefront of my mind. The realm was as dark as it ever seemed to get here – too dark to make out color or fine detail, but bright enough to see everything important. Yasha was beside me, breathing deeply, lips parted slightly as he lay sprawled on his back.

            I kept my eyes fixed on him as I edged out from under the blanket, ready to drop back onto the pillow and play possum at the first sign of wakefulness. Luckily, he remained sound asleep, and I was soon crouching beside the futon, locking eyes on my captor while I planned my next course of action. This had to be done carefully. I still remembered how on the night we met, I’d beaten my hands and scraped my nails against him to no effect. I still didn’t know why (it seemed like an inhumanly stupid idea to ask), and I needed to be realistic about the possibility that my attempt would fail.

            In that event, I would need some way to allay suspicion. And if he should stir while I was still in the act, I’d need an alibi that would work in tandem with my murder method. I spent a long time contemplating the use of poison, since it would circumvent whatever power had protected him from my punches. Unfortunately, after wracking my brain to think whether or not any of Yasha’s bath oils could be poisons, I was forced to concede that I didn’t even know if they were poisonous to _my own_ body, let alone his. Besides, how could I administer the poison without waking him?

            My thoughts went next to Yasha’s spear. It made the most sense – use a spirit’s weapon to kill a spirit. But was that really how it worked? Did the spear have magic of its own, or was it just a conduit for his own power? If it was a conduit, would he be able to sense it if I tried to kill him with his own spear? And critically, if it _didn’t_ work, there was no way I could pass it off casually. That didn’t leave many options. Maybe…

            A flash of inspiration struck me.

            The knife. The knife Yasha used to cut the gnarl-tooth paddler! It was just an ordinary knife, so far as I could tell, but it had managed to cut through that thick, scaly hide. It had to be good for something. It was also possible that whatever force protected Yasha from my fists wasn’t proof against blades. Most importantly, I could drag over that melon Yasha had brought back and have it sitting beside me. That way if Yasha woke up, I could say I was just using the knife to carve myself a little midnight snack.

            I took a few more minutes to review my plan, then rose gingerly to my feet. I was on high alert the whole time, but Yasha never shifted.

            A few minutes of stealthy movement later, and I was back at Yasha’s side with the watermelon at my knee and the knife in my hand. Thankfully, Yasha was meticulous about the care of his knives, so it wasn’t still sticky with blood.

            _That won’t last long_ , I thought optimistically.

            Even in the gloom, Yasha looked pretty as a girl. His hair lay across one shoulder as he slept, and one of his arms was stretched overhead with fingers slightly curled. Again, I had that curious sense of dissociation. Someone so… so beautiful… How could they be responsible for…

            But then I played my memories upon that lovely face. I recounted the sneers, the scoffs, the leers and glares and cruel smirks. They fit. What a hideous, beautiful monster.

            I set to work slicing the watermelon in half, keeping a clean towel nearby for the juice. It occurred to me as I split through the rind that I wasn’t sure what would happen when Yasha died. Presumably he’d evaporate like those other demons had. And the realm? Would it collapse and leave me drowning in the depths of the sea? Or would it remain intact and leave me to starve?

            Hopefully the former. Quicker that way.

            For the sake of authenticity, I cut a little notch in one of the halves of the melon before turning at last to my target.

            My hand was steady and level as I reached out and poised the knife at his throat. I felt the moment that the flat of the blade touched his skin. I saw his skin give slightly at the pressure, and I feared that my own pulse shivering through the blade would wake him. Before my nerve escaped, I tilted the cutting edge against his throat, jerked the knife toward me, and pivoted back to my pose in front of the melon.

            I heard a loud, sharp breath that wasn’t my own. A grunt and rustling of fabric intruded, but my vision had tunneled itself to a single point on the dry, gleaming blade in my hand. I wouldn’t look back until the silence returned.

            It occurred to me, with slight annoyance, that I had a headache.

            When I looked again, Yasha’s face had pinched into a pretty little frown. The hand that had been resting over his head was now curled up next to his cheek. His neck was unmarked.

            I stared at him for almost a full minute just to be sure. This was galling… But still, it _had_ at least provoked a reaction. Maybe I _could_ hurt him this way if…

            Carefully, but with a little more confidence now, I turned toward Yasha again. If the stealthy swipe had been enough to perturb him, perhaps a well-placed stab would prove lethal.

            I raised the knife as high as I felt I could and still maintain precision, holding the end of the handle in my left palm so it wouldn’t slip. Then I swung my arms downward.

            The tip struck right at the jugular where I’d been aiming, then skidded off Yasha’s skin without leaving a mark. I lost my balance for a moment and nearly fell on top of my sleeping captor. His lips expelled a puff of air, the pout melting into a giggle, and then he rolled to face my usual sleeping place. I remained absolutely still but for the tremor in my arms. After 20 seconds, when I felt sure that Yasha really wasn’t going to wake up, I pushed back onto my knees and let loose my pent-in breath.

            That had been too close. It was time to call it a night. I’d just have to wait for another opportunity.

            I wasn’t really hungry now, but I knew it would look suspicious if I cut the melon in half and left it there. I looked at the lonesome fruit, then at the knife in my hand… and suddenly I worried that I might have just dented or dulled the knife against Yasha’s skin. Curiously, I tested the edge with my thumb and promptly cut myself.

            I bit my lip at the hot sting, focusing all my concentration to keep from making a sound. On no account could I allow myself to wake –

            “Hiroshi-tan?”

            I turned to ice.

            All my senses cut out for one terrible, blind second. Then I drew in a fragile breath and felt my thumb blare with hot pain. The very next instant, Yasha was at my side, his breath falling upon my shoulder. He took hold of my hand and lifted it to examine the cut on my thumb. “You clumsy idiot!” he hissed viciously. “How did this happen? What were you doing just now?”

            A note of accusation crept into his voice near the end, and I saw the glow of one glaring eye edge into my peripheral vision.

            “Ah… w… e…” Fear had paralyzed my tongue. Numbly, I lifted a hand and gestured vaguely at the watermelon.

            Yasha looked at it, at the cut on my thumb, at the knife that I’d let drop to the floor when I heard his voice. Finally, a sigh slipped out. He let go of my hand and rubbed his face. “Dammit, you clumsy idiot…” He sounded exasperated instead of angry now. “I wish you wouldn’t try to do things like this by yourself. Just… wake me up next time you’re hungry, alright?”

            “Okay…” I blinked away a few relieved tears. That was _way_ too close.

            We were both quiet for a few seconds, and then Yasha reached out to hold my hand again. Without a word, he lifted it up to his face, slid my thumb into his mouth, and started to suck the blood off it. This was… gross on so many levels. But what could I say? Nothing that he’d give any heed to. Damn! but I could feel his tongue brushing over the length and knuckle of my digit.

            Finally, he stopped. Then, in a cliché almost as old as written language itself, he tore a tiny strip of cloth from his skirt and used it to bandage my finger. I endured this without remark, fixing my eyes on his chest instead of his face. At the end I muttered a grudging “thanks.”

            He didn’t reply, but he reached up and stroked my cheek with a thumb. There was a curious pressure to this scene – a tension completely unlike our stony silence in the bath.

            Presently, Yasha picked up the melon and the knife, whittled out a juicy crescent, and proffered it to me.

            I bit my lip. “I… don’t really feel hungry anymore.”

            “Don’t be stubborn,” the demon said wearily. “You may as well now that we’re both awake.” I didn’t reply or move for a moment, so Yasha nudged my hand with the rind. “Come on, Hiroshi-tan. You’ve shed blood for a taste of this.”

            I looked up at him sharply, caught off guard by the sudden prosaic twist of his words. Yasha was wearing a smile I didn’t recognize. It was a little ironic, but also gentle, tired, even affectionate. The sight of it made my stomach tighten. But I turned my hand palm-up to accept the piece of fruit. “Alright.”

            He was visibly happy to see me take it, and he hummed softly while carving a slice for himself. The first bite of watermelon was so sweet it almost shocked me and made me think that maybe this was a good time to eat after all. After the second bite, I felt just how hungry I’d really been. I’d eaten so little of the gnarl-tooth’s flesh at dinner, and my brush with catastrophe had burned a void in my stomach. Yasha had already carved a second piece for me by the time I finished my first, and I accepted it with gratitude. We laid our discarded seeds on the same towel I’d pulled over to mop up the melon juice, and our breakfast went by in silence.

            It wasn’t an especially large watermelon, but it still surprised me when we each laid our fifth rinds on the towel and saw that there was nothing left. It was the best meal I’d had since entering the realm. Even now, I can easily recall its taste…

            Without saying a word, Yasha reached out to encircle my shoulders and waist in his arms, then pulled me close to lean against his body. I looked at him to see what he would do next, but that was it. He’d just wanted to hold me. Silence resumed.

            It was so peaceful… It felt… It just felt good, in the dim stillness of that realm, to be held in warm, strong arms and listen to the silence. After about a minute, I was gripped with…

            I don’t know if this is a real word, but I was gripped by a sort of ‘micro-panic.’ I was feeling safe and comfortable and… desired in Yasha’s presence. It was what he wanted me to feel. And I didn’t deceive myself as to why it was happening; after a week or more cut off from all human contact, I was starved for touch, for attention, affection, and security.

            And monster that he was, Yasha was all I had – the only living being besides myself in this desolate prison.

            My fiber felt restive and anxious. I couldn’t let this moment drag out into something normal. I needed to say something. To do something. To break the moment somehow. To interrupt the tranquility of the scene. After five minutes of thinking along these lines and fearing that my will was simply too weak, Yasha unexpectedly saved me the trouble.

            “Hiroshi-tan…” He turned my head gently, lifting my chin to meet his eyes. My stomach tightened as he carried on in that deep, thrumming voice of his. “I know this has been… a difficult time for you. Your life changed pretty radically in just a few days, and that’s not easy to adjust to. But I’m here for you, Hiroshi-tan. I want you to know that. I’m here for you. You don’t have to be ashamed to rely on me.” He offered a sunny grin and swept a hand along my bangs. “I’m your husband. It’s what I’m here for. So… let’s not fight anymore. I want to move on from yesterday.”

            Relief washed over me. But not for the reason he’d intended.

            For a minute, I was afraid he would apologize and ask for my forgiveness. I was feeling so vulnerable, my will so weak, I wouldn’t have been able to withhold it. I would have reached out to him – turned my back on my family and tried to find the good in him, my only companion in exile.

            But he didn’t apologize. And once more, while speaking as though he thought himself so wise, he missed the mark entirely. Once again, he’d demonstrated what an ignorant, self-centered child he really was.

            I was safe. I would never fall in love with this arrogant beast.

            I gave a fairly convincing smile in return. “Okay.”

            His eyes appeared so kind and earnest as we looked at each other. I suppose he really believed that he loved me. At last, he leaned in for a slow, lingering kiss, and I welcomed the kiss with seeming sincerity. His kiss stole away my breath, just as they always did, but it failed to disorient me. I even put a little effort into returning the kiss, curling my tongue up to meet his. This delighted my captor, and Yasha wrapped his arms around my waist to pull my body tight against his.

            Even as my strength faded, my body going slack in his arms, I thought to myself, _this is all a deception. I hate you, ‘Yasha my husband.’ And I’ll get back at you. Somehow. I’ll find a way to hurt you before the end._

            To my surprise, Yasha didn’t press his advantage once I was still and quiescent upon the futon. Instead, he wrapped me in blankets, stroked my hair, and got back to his feet. “You go back to sleep now, darling. I’d meant to get up early today anyway.” He went to the chest of drawers and started changing into a somewhat more conservative outfit with an armored sleeve. “This errand will take me at least till noon. You can go ahead and do laundry for us if you get bored. Sleep well, my precious Hiroshi-tan.”

            My eyes were weighing themselves shut before he’d finished speaking. I was still awake to hear the splash as he left the realm, but I didn’t take long to sink after that. My sense of contented loathing followed me into my sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to finally have this chapter out! Enormous thanks to everyone who's followed me this far, and especially to those of you who have commented or messaged me with nice things. It's been a joy to work on this story. 
> 
> I now have a twitter where you can follow me for occasional updates on my upcoming works! https://twitter.com/IsuSeal
> 
> For instance, Chapter 4 is already drafted and only awaiting editing, but it's on the short side. So in between working on that, I'm also drafting a sequel to my Legend of Korra fic, "The One Time." I hope to have it ready for you all soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re about to ask me for the details about that night. Sure you’re ready to hear about that? I’m not blind to how much it upsets you, ya know.”_

            My day started with me waking up, rummaging through Yasha’s food stores, and deciding to make ochakuze for breakfast. I thought it was a simple enough meal that even I, inexperienced cook that I was, couldn’t mess it up. I was mostly right, except that I cooked way too much. After eating two bowls of the stuff, I still had enough for four generous servings.

            So after having another look through the available ingredients, I hit on the idea to make onigiri. I’d seen my mother making it enough times to have a basic idea how they were made, and I could fill them with soy-roasted seaweed and diced horseradish like my sister used to like them (she’d been unusually fond of horseradish).

            This was when things started to go wrong. I hadn’t rinsed the rice thoroughly enough at the start, apparently, because the rice took so much care and pressure to stick together, and then it was so crumbly that I needed two strips of dried seaweed for each ball. After all that, they were still edible and reasonably tasty, but I could only bring myself to eat two through the course of the day and left the remaining 5 wrapped in a napkin on the table. So once I finished eating and couldn’t bear to sit still any longer, I got up to do the laundry.

            We still had the wooden tub from my first night, and it now served as a laundry basin. Yasha had taken the time to fill it with water before he left, and beside it he’d placed a few bottles with words painted on the sides in chipped and faded ink. “Debrine;” I recognized that one. It removed salt from the water before we took our baths. “Fabric cleanse;” it was an especially viscous yellow liquid, and when uncapped it had a pleasant, spicy-sweet aroma. The last bottle was almost too faded to read, but I think it said something like “snow maker.” It was slightly blue and thinner than cream. I wasn’t sure what to do with it, so I decided to lay it aside until its use became apparent.

            But by the time our clothes were all washed, rinsed, and hung up to dry, I couldn’t find that there was anything to pick at. They felt, and smelled, as fresh and clean as you could wish. Another half-hour passed, and I deemed it must be about midday. My mind meandered curiously over what sort of books Yasha planned to bring me. Despite myself, I was a little excited to see them.

            Well… more than a little. I had been more than a week without any form of diversion, after all.

            At some point, the meditative exercise I’d performed last night came to mind. Meditation… the honing of thought upon a single goal or concept. I wondered… could one _meditate_ on hatred? Certainly no priest or monk would condone such a use for meditation, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be done. So I endeavored to try.

            It wasn’t difficult. I needed less than 10 minutes to cleanse my thoughts of all but contempt for Yasha, the monster who had slaughtered my family, wiped out my village, raped me, kidnapped me, beaten me, and subjected me to a hundred indignities. And if he’d provided me with all basic necessities during my captivity, he’d also provided no shortage of reasons to hate him. Whatever gifts he brought me, they would be insufficient to earn my forgiveness. I would accept them, and perhaps I’d even enjoy them. I’d thank him with my mouth, but my heart would bear no gratitude. After all, he owed me far, _far_ more than nice clothes and a few books. He deserved…

 

            I can’t say how long my meditation went on, because at some point I fell asleep. Hardly a surprise, but not a waste.

            I was awoken by an evil voice calling my name, and the press of an unwelcome hand upon my shoulder. I jerked back and opened my eyes, seeing Yasha crouched before me with a triumphant grin. The watery ceiling behind him was the dark, faintly red hue it acquired close to nighttime.

            “Hey there, pretty wife,” he beamed, running his thumb along my lower lip. “What are you sleeping for? It’s too late for a midday nap now!”

            I stared mutely. My hate, which had burned like a bonfire at the height of my meditation, had dwindled during sleep into a low bed of coals, but it was still alive and burning. I could harness it, now, and rake every word he spoke across it.

            When I held my silence, Yasha leaned down and pressed a kiss onto my lips. “Come on, get up Hiroshi-tan! It took all day, but I found all the books I wanted to show you!” I imitated a mild smile as Yasha tugged on my arm, pulling me up to a sitting position.

            Yasha pulled his presents out of his rucksack. As it happens, his spoils consisted of two books, two scrolls, and one… well it was like a sort of pamphlet or letter. It was one enormous sheet of paper carefully folded into eight sections like a map, each section being treated as a page of its own, covered in writing on both front and back. A black ribbon was used to hold it together when folded shut, and the pages were so confusingly laid out that somebody (in a hand and ink quite distinct from that of the original author) had taken the trouble of numbering all the pages.

            Yasha presented this and the other four items one by one. He opened and unrolled them in front of my eyes and told me the title of each. They were all… _romances_. All except for one of the scrolls, which was a version of the story of Momotaro. The rest were entitled, _Santaro and the Phoenix Princess, Chiyako and Heiji, Retsuko and the Toad Prince,_ and _The Girl Who Became the Bride of a Tiger_. The last one in particular was so racy and salacious that my father’s hair would have fallen out if anyone had asked him to print it. I won’t describe it in any further detail, but it’s about as bad as you’re probably imagining.

            It was while Yasha was gushing about _Santaro and the Phoenix Princess_ that an important question sprang to mind. “How did you learn to read?”

            Yasha came to a halt mid-sentence and stared at me blankly. “What?”

            “You said that you never had any friends or family. So who taught you to read?”

            The demon blinked and put on a face of slight annoyance, irked by my interruption. “Nobody taught me to read.”

            “You…” I blinked and goggled a little. “What? Nobody?”

            “No.” He wasn’t even bragging. He just said it with impatient matter-of-factness. “Nobody taught me how to read. Nobody taught me how to speak either. I’ve just always known.” He waited a long few seconds for me to reply, then added, “Spirits sometimes _do_ , Hiroshi-tan. It really isn’t all that unusual.”

            “I, uh…” Yasha was already starting to fidget with irritation because I’d interrupted him, and I knew he’d only get testier if I didn’t see this conversation through now it was started. “I never knew about that.”

            Weak, but Yasha was practically an expert at carrying a conversation on a minimum of air. “It’s true. Some spirits, of course, are born of human ghosts that remained in the world of the living long enough to turn into spirits. Others…” His eyes unfocussed and he went quiet just long enough for me to think he’d lost his train of thought. But then he picked up his thread as abruptly as if nothing had happened. “Others, like me, are born of condensed energies, emotions, curses and wishes. We can have all kinds of disembodied knowledge when we come into being.” That familiar look of contemptible smugness broke across his features. “That’s how a loner like me manages to be so clever and sophisticated. What I didn’t know already, I easily learned from literature.”

            At the word ‘literature,’ he gestured to the books and scrolls in front of me, and I wrapped a hand over my mouth to hide a gasp of baffled mirth. He called _these_ literature?

            _This explains so much._

            Wait… Did he just call himself sophisticated? Him? Yasha, who ate with his chop sticks in his fist like a five-year-old? It would have been hilarious were it not so cringe-inducing.

            “That… makes sense,” I said guardedly once I had my voice under control.

            Yasha seemed to notice my hesitation, though. With a laugh he added, “I mean, I didn’t learn _everything_ from books! I also learned from eavesdropping.”

            I blinked. “Eavesdropping?”

            “Yeah.”

            I felt a sweat starting to prickle at my skin. “Who… I mean, how did you…”

            “ _So inquisitive_.” He sounded irritated and charmed in nearly equal measure. “You’ve probably noticed that I have very good hearing, right?” I nodded, feeling my throat going dry. “Well, on clear days when the wind was low, I could come to your island, lie down very still on the sand, and I’d just listen. From there, I could hear just about everything being said in the village.”

            “Everything?” I didn’t have to pretend to be shocked.

            “Eh…” Yasha waggled his hand noncommittally. “I mean, sure, I could _hear_ everything, but it was a babble when too many people were talking at once. To actually listen to what was being said, I had to tune my hearing to just one or two voices at a time. Maybe up to five at once if they were in conversation.”

            “T… tune in?” My head was reeling. I needed to keep Yasha talking without letting him catch on to how much the information disturbed me.

            “Yeah, to particular voices. I can focus on a single voice, or I can widen my scope to hear a few people at once – as long as their voices are similar. I wound up listening to a lot of gossip that way – you know people tend to pitch their voices a certain way when they’re sharing ‘juicy stories.’ That made eavesdropping really easy for me. Other times, I would listen to a couple arguing, or to a tradesman and his apprentice during lessons, and I could only hear one side of the conversation. I learned how to cook from listening to women giving cooking lessons to their daughters.

            “Often, I heard people who were alone talking to themselves. That was always good for a laugh. Sometimes they’d sing or babble or play out little plays in their heads, or I’d get to hear them voicing the vicious, bloodthirsty thoughts that go through their heads when nobody else can hear them.”

            I remembered the sorts of things that I used to say when I was alone, and hot embarrassment flushed through me. Thankfully Yasha spared me needing to speak.

            “In a funny way…” The demon flashed me a sly look. “You might almost say I knew about half of them better than you did. I’ve been eavesdropping on your village off and on for a couple generations now. I was never good at assigning names to voices, but I came to recognize certain voices and personalities. At one point I counted them all: 411 people lived in your village the night I burned it to the ground. Well… 410. As we know, you were elsewhere that night.”

            That casual reminder felt like a knife being dragged through my heart, but I didn’t get angry. Not yet. There were still too many questions I had to ask – some things still weren’t adding up. To start with… “So you just… forgot about me?”

            Yasha tossed his hair back casually. “You’re only 19, your voice is ordinary to the point of androgyny, and as a third son, not very many people talked about you.”

            I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “We… Elders used to tell us… not to say your name anywhere in sight of the coast.”

            Yasha smiled a little, his eyes closed. “I know.”

            “But… In the village, and the tavern especially, people would tell ghost stories about you.”

            “I know.” He looked so content.

            “People… said a lot of bad things about you. People who you’d…”

            Yasha opened his eyes again, looking at me calmly. “Fishermen who I’d stolen fish from. Tradesmen who I’d robbed. Fathers and mothers and brothers whose men didn’t give me what I demanded and wound up food for sea urchins. I remember. I told you, I’ve heard a lot of people curse me behind my back.”

            “Then… why…”

            “ _Why_ did I let them?” He quirked a brow ironically. “Because they still respected me.” He continued as he saw my nonplussed look. “Fear is a kind of respect. They could say whatever they wanted when they were at home and thought I couldn’t hear them. I knew they were too scared to say any of it to my face. They knew that the ocean was my domain, and as long as they never dared to disrespect me on my own turf, I was content.” He shrugged. “After all… their grievances were legitimate. I _did_ steal from them. They had a right to be angry.”

            Now I was more confused than ever. I shook my head. “But… I don’t understand. If you were content to leave us alone for that long, then… then why…”

            Yasha met my eyes intently. “You’re about to ask me for the details about that night. Sure you’re ready to hear about that? I’m not blind to how much it upsets you, ya know.”

            He wasn’t? That didn’t come across… Either way, I had come this far. I knew the questions would nag at me if I never asked them. “Yes… I promise I’ll listen and… control myself…”

            _And whatever you tell me, it’ll just be fuel to the fire. It’ll make it all the sweeter when I get my revenge._

            Yasha nodded, then took a moment to collect his thoughts. He was still looking out into space as he started his narrative. “One day, I listened in on a mother scolding her child… It had to have been a young son, because I remember her calling him a ‘reckless boy.’ He’d spilled her bottle of vinegar, I think. She was all in a rage, and she told him, ‘If you don’t learn to stop breaking things, Yasha will come into your room at night and cut off your thumbs!’ That… irritated me. It’s one thing when humans who have a personal grudge curse me in their homes, but this woman who I’d never met used my name like I was some kind of… attack dog. Or some lesser youkai. I wasn’t going to stand for that.

            “So that night, I brought my spear with me back to the island. I planned to break into her house and… give her a good scare. Maybe I’d cut _her_ thumbs off to send a message that my name shouldn’t be bandied around without cause. But while I was walking through the woods outside of town, I came upon a meeting between two young people. They were your age, maybe a bit younger, and I recognized their voices. She was a fabric-maker’s daughter, and he was a carpenter’s oldest son. They had met together in secret to make love, and I stopped to watch them.

            “Before then, I’d… never really been interested in sex. I’ve read lots of romances, and several of them talk about sex. The authors describe it with the same flowery language and liberal hyperboles they use to describe everything else. I regarded romance the same way I regarded treasure hunting or kendo: something that was interesting to read about, but which I had no interest in doing.

            “Furthermore, when I started eavesdropping on your village, I heard plenty of sex. That _really_ made me feel like I didn’t want it. I heard couples on their wedding nights, I heard men and women falling into bed with adulterers, and I heard women being forced into bed by their husbands, by their friends, and sometimes even by their fathers or brothers. I heard pairs of women in the middle of the day, meeting together for ‘tea,’ and I heard pairs of men sneaking off to the quarry after nightfall. And of course, I heard people masturbating. You might find this hard to believe, but _everyone_ does it. Or nearly everyone. Kids as young as nine, old people in the triple digits, and everything in between. Couples who are fighting, couples who are madly in love, widows and widowers, and teenagers who moan the names of people they’re too shy to talk to. On some nights, it was hard to tell if a person was masturbating or having sex, because they moaned the same things either way. And sometimes, the banter was so degrading that I couldn’t tell if the other person wanted it or not. Even when both participants were willing, they often sounded like they were in pain.

            “After a while, the moans all start to sound the same. Though I’d been listening in on that village for almost a century, I listened to humans having sex less than a thousand times. I thought I’d heard everything. But actually _seeing_ those two humans in the woods… was an eye-opener. These were two people who really wanted each other. I could see it. Their auras were bright and wild, and they mingled together just as their bodies did. The man was weeping, and I realized that his pain wasn’t from the act itself, but from all the time their bodies had been separated.

            “After they’d finished, they lay side-by-side for a while. The man noticed that the woman was wearing a troubled look, and he asked her what was wrong. She said she was worrying about what would happen if she became pregnant. And suddenly the man was elated and grinning. He said, ‘That won’t be a problem much longer. I was speaking to my father this morning, and he said that he and Mom are eager to have grandchildren. He’s heard me talking about you, and he thinks that we’d be a good match. Tomorrow, Dad will invite your father over for sake, and together the two of us will ask for your hand and his blessing. They’re good friends, and your father likes me. He’ll say yes. We’ll be together, Hanako.’ She was so happy as they fell back together…

            “I’d heard humans being happy before. I’ve heard birthdays, festivals, weddings, baby showers, pranks, drinking parties, and children’s games… And do you know, I always thought you all were playing it up. Sure you all _sounded_ happy, but I thought it couldn’t really compare to the joy of a fresh kill, or the sight of a coral reef shimmering with color, or the sight of dolphins flipping and playing in the waves. Especially not when I’d also heard humans when they grieved, when they seethed, and when they griped and bickered. I’ve heard humans weeping for losses both tremendous and miniscule. I’ve heard the words that are spoken in the last moments before brawls, before murders, and before suicides. And so I thought that humans just… _told_ themselves that they were happier than they really were. I thought it was a coping mechanism to help them deal with how weak and fragile they were, how laborious and brief their dismal lifespans really were.

            “But when I watched those two kissing, overcome with joy at the mere _hope_ that her father would give them his blessing… I saw that it was all real. Their voices hadn’t done justice to the happiness that they really felt. They were happy down to the very depths of their souls. I suddenly realized that humans… probably every human in your village had, at least once in their lives, felt happier than I’ve ever been in my two and a half centuries.”

            Yasha never met my eyes during this entire speech. His expression was always perfectly neutral, but as he reached this point in the narrative, he clutched at his chest as though his heart were stinging. He held that pose for a long minute. Then he sighed, readjusted his seat a little, and continued.

            “I was angry then. It felt… unfair. Unfair that humans should have that kind of happiness just handed to them. They grew up surrounded by people who knew them and loved them, even after they sinned and hurt each other. They forgave each other so freely. Meanwhile, I had never known family or friendship, and I struck fear and repulsion into the hearts of people who’d never met me. They refused to forgive me, even if I had never hurt them. So I decided that if humans resented me for what I _didn’t_ have, then I would resent them for what they _did_ have. And then I did something about it. Starting with those two as they lay on the forest floor.”

            Finally, our eyes met. Neither of us said anything for nearly a minute. Then, in a voice dry and choked I said, “But I… When you saw me, you didn’t kill me…”

            Yasha’s vacant expression changed to a tentative smirk. “What can I say? With no new books and nobody to listen to, the silence got dull in a hurry. When I saw you, I realized you were the only survivor. I felt… a kind of kinship. You were like me – homeless and lonely. It felt good to see someone who shared my pain, no less so because I was responsible. Plus… my memory still burned with the sight of those two, fucking like their lives depended on it. I’d masturbated three times since then, and I’d started to regret not leaving at least one woman alive so I could see for myself what sex was like. But when you were leaning against me, shouting my name, putting your hands all over my body… I decided you were close enough.

            “Then, after I finished fucking you and learned that you had been a virgin as well, it was like… it was like destiny, you know? Like we were kindred spirits, both without home or family or friends. And we could suddenly _become_ those things for each other. That’s when I knew that I needed you. I’d take you as my bride, the way that man was going to take his Hanako, and since neither of us had parents, nobody could stop us. I would love you and care for you until you couldn’t help but love me back, and I’d see you become radiant with human happiness. Having you as my bride has already made me the happiest I’ve ever felt.”

            By the end, Yasha’s eyes were glistening with his own delusions. I stared at him and felt my brain throbbing. It was too much to take in at once. Fear and revulsion were at the forefront of my mind, but I kept them hidden behind a placid mask. I felt like I understood Yasha far better now, but that understanding brought me no closer to liking him.

            I cut off the train of thought quickly when I saw that Yasha was looking at me expectantly. He wanted a reaction from ‘his bride.’ Fighting against my inner turmoil, I managed to tug my lips into a timid smile. It sufficed.

            He grinned happily and leaned forward to kiss me on the lips, rubbing my cheek with sincere tenderness. The kiss lasted only an instant, and then he knelt there looking at me. He was basking in my shy façade.

            Finally, he sat back and returned to his attention to the books, picking up his thread as though he’d never been diverted. “I’d recommend _Chiyako and Heiji_ first. The others are better, but this one’s still pretty good, so you should read it first.”

            “Okay.” I imitated a congenial smile, having no real opinion in the matter and wanting time to think.

            “But first…” Seemingly from nowhere, Yasha pulled forward the platter of onigiri I’d made earlier. “Let’s have dinner, huh?”  
            “O-oh…” I looked at the crumbly balls of rice, then up at Yasha. He was beaming at me now with childish sincerity. My appetite was nowhere to be found, but I took one of the onigiri to keep Yasha in his good mood. “Thanks.”

            The demon clicked his tongue. “That should be _my_ line. This is the first time you’ve made us dinner.”

            _If only I hadn’t…_

            I ate carefully, once more having to cup the ball in both hands to keep it from falling apart, and watched Yasha out of the corner of my eye. He ate the first bite with some difficulty, not finding out how fragile the onigiri were until two big clumps of rice fell onto his chest and scattered back into grains as they rolled down to his crotch.

            Once he started using both hands, though, he seemed to quite enjoy the cake, taking big bites and offering occasional hums of approval. When there was just one bite left, with all the crumbs of rice held carefully in that dried slice of seaweed, Yasha smiled at me and said, “This is delicious! I wish I’d asked you to make these sooner.”

            Muddled as my thoughts were, I felt a little ember of pleasure in my chest when he said that. I couldn’t figure out why. In retrospect, I suppose it’s because this was the first time he’d complimented me for something other than my appearance or my “skill” at sex. He was complimenting something I’d done of my own free will, which I’d enjoyed, and about which I’d been a little uncertain. That… felt as though it meant something. I was annoyingly affected by the remark and had to break eye contact with a muttered, “Good… thanks.”

            Yasha leaned forward to try and catch my eye. “You’re blushing, Hiroshi-tan.”

            It was true. I could feel my ears burning. “Stop that…”

            “But you’re happy.” He was grinning like a fool, his voice thick with teasing. “Did you think I wouldn’t like them?”

            “They’re… kind of crumbly. They fall apart more than they should.” It was easier to tell the truth.

            “That’s no problem. They still taste delicious, and they’ll only get better if you practice.” I looked the other way, bitter and embarrassed. His fingers slid through my hair. “Thank you, Hiroshi-tan.”

            Silence resumed as Yasha started on another onigiri. I had only taken one bite of mine, but my stomach felt sour with pride and confusion. So I set it aside and picked up one of the books. “Mind if I start on this one?”

            “Mm!” The demon’s mouth was full, but he nodded eagerly in invitation, and I started on _Chiyako and Heiji._

            It didn’t matter whether the book was any good or not. It would be the best book I’d ever read, if it kept me from having to look at Yasha. For the first few minutes, though, I couldn’t get my eyes to focus on the text. My mind just kept coming back to Yasha’s speech, chewing and digesting each little bit. But eventually, I managed to push all of it aside until later.

            _This changes nothing._  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, the first chapter so far with no sex in it. Probably won't have many of those XD 
> 
> The original draft was much shorter and felt a bit emotionally arid. But just as I was about to post it yesterday, I realized what the story was missing and spent an hour writing the best part of the chapter. 
> 
> I hope you've all enjoyed the story so far! Chapter 5 is already drafted, and I'll begin typing it up as soon as I've finished this little side-venture I'm working on. 
> 
> For more progress updates, and notes about other upcoming stories, visit my twitter page @IsuSeal  
> If you have any questions about the characters, feel free to tweet me, or to ask in the comments below.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which god did I offend to have my life put at the mercy of this… brat?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so before going on, there's one (not so) little detail I need to talk about: Yasha's dick. Seriously, this is relevant. 
> 
> I did my best to articulate its size in Book I, but I was still nervous about whether or not I did a good job. And since the story is set in the Heian period, I didn't want to use anachronistic modern measurements. Then, shortly after finishing Book I, I found this guy on twitter who is... EXACTLY what I had in mind. 
> 
> So to answer once and for all the question of "just how big is Yasha's dick?", I'd like to just point to this guy and say, "That big." 
> 
> (Obviously, this is going to be absolutely 100% NSFW, so have your back to a wall when you click the link)  
> https://twitter.com/FrenchHugeCock/status/1159559570337009664
> 
> So... now you know. Happy reading.

            As the weeks rolled by, it grew harder and harder to keep track of the passage of time. When the only distinction between night and day was the changing dimness of the realm, and when there was no weather to plan for, no people to visit, no crops to be tended, no woods to be explored while gathering kindling, and no moon to be seen overhead at any time of day or night, one day felt much like another.

            I thought at one point that I could calculate the time I’d spent here by the number of articles and furnishings that were gradually filling up the realm. If Yasha brought about two new items a week, but subtract one for uncertainty’s sake after every fourth week, then I’d been here for… four months? Six? That had to be wrong. It was… Was it too long or too short? I couldn’t decide. It just didn’t seem right…

            I _do_ remember that not long after the first books, I learned about another one of Yasha’s hidden talents. This one was even more improbable than his ability to read: he could perform acupuncture.

            I was quite thoroughly engrossed in _Santaro and the Phoenix Princess_ (which was nearly as good as Yasha had bragged), and I’d tensed up at the sound of Yasha returning from his daily scavenge. I chose to stay still and keep reading rather than get up and greet my husband. Yasha wasn’t offended. I suppose he was happy that I found his favorite book enjoyable. Presently, he walked over and knelt beside me as I lay spread on my front. I tried to keep my mind in the world of Santaro and his adventures, but the demon’s presence tugged at my attention and kept my heart at a constant, rapid tempo. Yasha could, of course, hear how quickly my heart was thumping.

            “So tense,” he hummed absently, stroking the backs of his fingers down my spine. It might have been soothing, except that my daily hatred meditation had rendered his every touch repulsive. His fingers kept stroking along the lines of my back as he sat, watching me read and listening to my breathing. “Oh!” he said in the elated tone of one with an epiphany. “I know what will help you relax. Get undressed.”

            At this sudden shift of topic, I cast a fearful glance over my shoulder. Yasha was already crossing to the opposite edge of the realm to dig something out of the dresser. My reluctance need not be stated, but Yasha would get what he wanted out of me, and resisting only ever seemed to give him more opportunities to humiliate me.

            So I sighed and slid out of my kimono, leaving only my fundoshi still girded. To my relief, Yasha didn’t object to the undergarment. He just gestured me over to the futon and told me to lie down on my front. In his hand, he held a bundle wrapped in rice paper.

            It was a hellishly tense moment, lying flat and exposed like that. Yasha’s manner didn’t quite hint at a sexual mood, but that really only added to the tension of the scenario. What _did_ he want, then? Presently, there came a rhythmic tapping of his fingers against my back, shoulders, and neck. It wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, it was just… mysterious. Then, I felt a prod at a point near my shoulder-blade that fell just below my pain threshold. It jogged something in my memory.

            “Y-Yasha-kun? What’s…”

            “Shh,” he advised. “This will feel better if you don’t speak.”

            That gave my memory another nudge, and I tried to look back at him. “Wait, you can’t be-”

            I felt another prod lower on my back, and I was forced to press my face back down against the blankets as my shoulders went slack. Yasha’s hand stroked the back of my head as he shushed me. “That’s better. Just relax and let your husband take care of you.” The tapping resumed, and a tension began building in my mind that my body was unable to reflect. This was so wrong… It was going too far, making me too vulnerable.

            But my panic was short lived. After a few seconds, and the introduction of a third needle in the small of my back, my heartrate slowed to a normal tempo. Knots of tension within my abdomen unclenched. In the welcome flow of calm lucidity, I reexamined my perspective. I was vulnerable to Yasha’s whims either way – at all times and to any degree. That was just the dynamic between us. So if this… acupuncture would ease my tension for a while, then I may as well lie still and wait patiently for it to be over.

            Yasha planted his final needle in the back of my thigh, then left me to unwind in silence while he began cooking the rice for tonight’s supper. For a while, I was confronted again with the dilemma of wanting to enjoy the things he gave and did for me without feeling any gratitude to the demon himself. But for better or worse, sleep crept over me as Yasha’s needles calmed my energies. I came to no important revelations.

            When Yasha removed the pins, I woke up in a fog of calm so thick that it was almost euphoric. I responded to my husband’s perfunctory ‘feel better?’ with an almost melodic hum in the affirmative. He returned a moment later with our dinner, set my bowl in front of me, and took a seat in my field of vision. I could see the smug curl of a smile on his lips, but just then I was too at ease to feel ill-disposed toward him for it.

            When I finally had enough motivation to get up, my arms felt delightfully springy. “So… when did you learn that?” I asked in my best chatty tone. “Or is it another thing you were born knowing?”

            “No, I had to learn it,” he said matter-of-factly. “But it _did_ come to me pretty naturally.”

            “Oh?” I prompted, then muttered a polite, “Thanks for the meal.” Then I lifted my bowl and took a bite of trout with my rice. It almost didn’t have a flavor, but it was deliciously tender. I didn’t wait to swallow the first bite before reaching for another.

            “Yeah.” Yasha smiled approvingly at the eager dart of my hand, then scooped up a mouthful of rice. The silence stretched pleasantly on for a minute, then he explained, “Sometime… the better part of a century ago, I came on a scroll detailing human pressure points and the science of acupuncture. It didn’t provide a complete education, but… I was able to work through the gaps after a year or two.”

            “Hm.” I took a gulp of tea. I didn’t know where Yasha had found it, or just what kind it was. It was surprisingly tangy. A brown tea of some kind, anyhow.

            “Actually,” the demon continued through another mouthful of rice. He finished chewing and swallowed before carrying on. “I think most of the older, really terrible ghost stories about me extend from that period. Usually, sailors and fishermen will just give me what I ask for, so I don’t have to kill them and risk scaring off the usual merchant ships. In more recent years, in fact, savvy captains have had my most common requests ready in a bundle any time they sail through my territory in the human world, ready to hand it over with a smile and be on their way.

            “But when I was honing my skill in acupuncture, I needed live specimens. By the time I’d finish practicing on one of them…” He shrugged and took a swig of his own tea. “I made the mistake of letting the first few go. That was a catastrophe, and sailors went well out of their way to avoid passing through my territory for a good ten years after that. So I decided it would be less trouble if they just… disappeared.”

            I took another bite of rice and chewed more slowly. I reached absently for a bite of fresh cucumber, but sat a long time with the slice just hovering between my chopsticks. “Was that… long ago, you said?”

            Yasha nodded, still chewing a bite of grilled squash. “About… eighty years or so. Nearly half a life-time ago now.”

            “Hm.” I slid the cucumber slice into my mouth, savoring the cool, fresh flavor on my palate. It occurred to me that, if four months had really passed since I was taken, squash and cucumber probably wouldn’t both be on the table for much longer.

            Yasha looked at me with a smile. “You know… I swear you look prettier and prettier every day, my Hiroshi-tan.”

            _Don’t look at me, you snake!_

            I made a bashful smile at my bowl of rice. “Don’t say things like that… It’s too embarrassing.”

 

            I certainly didn’t _feel_ prettier. In the weeks after that, my hair got longer and started to hang in my eyes while I was reading. I asked Yasha to bring me a pair of scissors so I could cut it, but he just laughed and said he didn’t trust me around any sharp objects after the incident with the watermelon. I pointed out that he could just as easily cut my hair for me, but Yasha said he liked it better long.

            That was when I asked Yasha to bring me a mirror. I told him I preferred to decide for myself if I was pretty, or handsome, or ugly, or whatever. But Yasha refused, saying, “My eyes should be mirror enough. If I say you’re beautiful, then you are.”

            In an effort to dodge _that_ go-nowhere line of logic, I pointed out that he could use the mirror for his own purposes as well. And to that, Yasha informed me that his eyes could see his own reflection in the water walls of the realm. I didn’t – and still don’t – know that I believe that. In spite of all the strange and unbelievable things I’d seen and learned, this seemed like just a step past what was reasonable. After all, if he could always see his own reflection in the barrier, shouldn’t it have surprised him at least a little to learn that I couldn’t? But on the other hand, his hair _was_ a little too pretty to be natural. And on occasion, I would wake up while he was painting on his usual eyeliner, sitting at the edge of the realm and staring at the barrier. I always remember his hair and making being flawless back then.

            In any event, I was unable to convince him to bring me a mirror, nor to cut my hair. The only compromise I could secure was a black ribbon to tie my bangs out of my eyes while reading. And here, Yasha’s earlier gift of a jade comb came into use: my husband took a fondness to sitting behind me and delicately combing my hair while I read.

            Of course, this didn’t solve the original problem with my new books; they were old and, in places, so faded that I had to have Yasha fill in certain passages from memory. So Yasha brought me all the materials I needed to copy the books.

            By hand.

            A new table, blotter, ink stone, five bars of ink, four brushes of varying size, eight blank scrolls, and fifty-three sheets of thin, clean rice paper appeared almost overnight. I quickly found that I enjoyed copying for print better than the traditional method. I have a steady hand and can trace letters and pictures perfectly, but my own handwriting… Even before the trauma of meeting Yasha, it had been less than beautiful. Even though my hands had stopped shaking, my technique had suffered more permanently. I had to use most of the rice paper Yasha had brought me to practice before beginning on any scroll. With less familiar kanji, I would use entire sheets to practice just one character over thirty times.

            During one practice session, I happened to absently write my own name. Yasha was reclining on one elbow in front of me, entirely naked, and chomping on an apple while he watched me. Quite by surprise, he reached forward, apple clenched in his teeth, and snatched up the sheet of paper I’d been working on as I was dipping my brush in ink. Perturbed, I set the brush down and watched sullenly while Yasha’s eyes roved over my work.

            The steady motion of his jaw paused, and I saw his eyes resting at one point on the paper. He swallowed his bite, pointed to a place with his little finger, and said, “I don’t like how your name’s written.”

            “I beg your pardon?” I did my best not to sound huffy, but I definitely did nonetheless.

            Yasha didn’t seem to notice, though. He carried on, “You only use one kanji for ‘Hiroshi.’ That’s so dull.”

            I pressed my tongue up against my teeth, feeling my eyes bulge with fury. “No, it’s not…” I offered weakly.

            “It is,” the demon insisted, still staring at the page, mouth quirked disapprovingly. “I don’t like it.”

            I had to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to try and cool my head. I thought my scream might seep out through my forehead. Once I felt like I’d regained a modicum of self-control, I said, “There’s beauty in simplicity. 寛 is tall, elegant, and nearly symmetrical. It’s a stately shape, and I happen to like it.”

            “Hm,” Yasha replied noncommittally, still staring at my name and chewing on a bite of apple. “Still,” he added after a long pause and a swallow, “it just isn’t very… cute.”

            “Cute.” I tried to inject as much dry scorn as I could into the one word.

            “Yeah.” The demon tilted his head, eyes still on the page. “I guess I can understand why you’d think it’s attractive, but… it doesn’t quite do it for me.”

            _As if that’s any of your concern._

            Getting up on his knees, Yasha scooted up to the table, flung the core of his apple overarm out of the realm, then picked up a fresh piece of paper and the broadest brush. In a few spritely motions, Yasha wrote two symbols on the paper, then turned it toward me. “You should write your name this way,” he said.

            I looked at the kanji and frowned, perplexed by the pair of characters: 博子

            “Hiroko?” I read aloud.

            “Hiroshi,” Yasha answered and tapped on the ‘child’ character. “‘Shi’ as in ‘danshi.’ It’s noble and stately the way you like, but it’s also sweeter this way.”

            I looked at my husband, then at the name on the paper, then back at Yasha. “It says ‘Hiroko.’ That’s a girl’s name.”

            Yasha pouted a little. “I already told you, it’s ‘shi’ like ‘danshi’ or ‘joshi.’ It’s cuter!”

            I didn’t break eye contact, but exasperation spread through my limbs. “That’s not how it works.”

            He glared petulantly. “Says who?”

            “Says…” I grunted in irritation and rubbed at my temples to buy time. “Says… Well, says anybody who would see this written as ‘Hiroko.’ My great grandmother Hiroko’s name was written exactly like this.”

            Yasha resumed his pouting. I looked again at the paper. The demon’s handwriting was… interesting. He’d wielded the brush with a sure and steady hand, but his posture and technique were unorthodox. The characters themselves were basically correct, readable, even reminiscent of classical calligraphy, but he had a curious way of subduing the broader strokes and exaggerating the subtle details. It was unquestionably a self-taught style of writing, too crude toe be called beautiful, but not entirely displeasing to look at.

            “I know!” Yasha said, breaking my train of thought. He pulled the paper back and wrote on it a second time. His script took on a tall, skinny quality in his excitement, but he still applied a feather touch.

            He turned the paper toward me again, and it was like my marrow had just spoiled. “Is that a joke?”

            “Nope!” he chirped obliviously.

            I stifled a groan. On the bottom of the paper, he’d written: ヒロちゃん

            _God damn it!_

            “Maybe,” I offered with feigned optimism, “you could just call me ‘Hiro-chan’ in your head and stick with ‘Hiroshi-tan’ like you’ve been using the rest of the time.”

            Yasha gave a good-natured laugh, exactly as if I’d been joking. “Come one, Hiro-chan, you know I think you’re adorable. Do you really wanna deny your doting husband the privilege of saying so?”

            _Yes!_ “It’s embarrassing! I’m not a girl!”

            “You could have fooled me,” Yasha said, and a lascivious grin began to stretch at his lips. “You feel like a girl when I hold you, and you moan like a girl when I’m doing things with you.”

            “Shut up!” I snapped. With Yasha already naked, I could see his limp member starting to twitch while he teased me. This wasn’t going to end well if I didn’t put a stop to it fast.

            “And you look so pretty with your hair in that ribbon, and your eyes so keen and attentive.”  
            “Yasha-kun, stop it! Please!”

            He didn’t even seem to hear me. He was leaning toward me while his hardening cock began to lift out of his lap. “And not to mention your ass feels just like a pussy when you’re squeezing my cock just as hard as you can.” I leaned away from him, but that evil leer kept me pinned to the spot. “And your blush… That cute, sweet blush you get when I talk about your body.”

            I shivered and clamped a hand over my mouth to keep a whimper from leaking out. My body was thrumming, my skin crawling. After all the times he’d molested me after speaking words like these, I couldn’t fight off the way it stirred me.

            Suddenly, Yasha leapt straight out from his kneeling position, cleared the writing table, and pinned me to the floor as he landed astride my torso. I was late in reacting, and I couldn’t find any purchase to push his hips off as his heavy, hardened dick prodded at my chin. My shoulders were trapped beneath his legs. “This most of all,” he said, wiggling his hips to make the tip of his member rub at the underside of my jaw, “you have this anxious look of innocent naivety whenever we’re about to have sex. Like it’s something you’ve never done before.” He scooted his hips further up, lifting his cock and letting it smack against my cheek while I grunted and clenched my eyes shut. “Like you want to hide the fact that you’re totally excited by my body, my voice, and my touch. Just like a sweet, pure, needy village girl.”

            I cringed, trying to keep my face away from that hot, weighty, moist cock even as Yasha ground it against my jaw, my cheeks, my brow, my jawline… The damn monster was longer than my head! “Alright!” I relented as I felt a slick drop of pre-ejaculate smearing over my eyebrow. “Fine, you can call me Hiro-chan or whatever.”

            “I planned to,” Yasha said unperturbed. Then he lifted his member and swung it back down onto my face with an audible smack. He chuckled at my groan of pain, then carried on with his taunting. I closed my eyes again, hoping to wait out his little bit of ‘fun’ in silence. Presently, I heard a contemplative hum above me. “Hey, Hiro-chan, a thought’s just occurred to me.”

            I opened one eye and peered up at him anxiously. “For all the times I’ve sucked Hiro-chan’s cute little dick until she came, I don’t remember you ever sucking mine in return.” A whimper slipped out before I could contain it. Truthfully, I’d had the same realization after my first week as Yasha’s bride, and I’d dreaded that he might ask it of me.

            My own member is… I must ruefully admit… small enough to fit in a man’s mouth with no difficulty. Whenever Yasha licked it, his entire tongue would rub against the full length of my cock at once. But Yasha’s cock is… as big as I’ve already described it. If he filled my entire mouth with his cock, that would still leave over half of it sticking out. To do to his cock as he’d done to mine seemed like a geometric – or at least anatomical – impossibility. When I’d lived with Yasha for two weeks and he never proposed such an attempt, I’d let myself think that even _he_ recognized what an unreasonable request it would be. I’d hardly thought about it since then.

            “Yasha-kun,” I pleaded, turning my head as far to one side as possible and speaking with conservative mouth movements to keep his dick from touching my lips.

            “You gonna try it?” he asked, lifting his phallus again and wagging it in front of my eyes the way one teases a dog with a piece of food.

            “No!” I tried again, unsuccessfully, to wrest my shoulders out from under the demon’s weight. “I don’t want to!”

            “What, you won’t even try? Not even for your hunky, devoted husband?”

            “Yasha-kun…” He finally pulled his cock back a few inches so I could look at him while I spoke. “Your penis is… unreal! I would break my neck if I tried to swallow that thing.”

            “Hmm…” Yasha began to idly stroke his member, tilting his head to one side in consideration. I suspect he only spared a thought for it because he loved being reminded about his freakish size. “You might have a point,” he conceded. “But who says you have to suck all of it at once? Just do as much as will fit in your pretty little mouth, okay?” He grinned sunnily and stroked my cheek with a thumb as he said this.

            “I can’t!” I cried in desperation.

            “What do you mean you can’t?” Yasha asked with a frown, still stroking his member.

            “It’s gross! I wouldn’t be able to stomach it – even just the taste would make me vomit.”

            Yasha frown became a sad caricature. “Oh, babe…” he pouted. “You shouldn’t say mean things like that about your husband’s dick. It’s big and clean and freshly washed like the rest of me, and it’s eager for you to taste it. Look!” He squeezed his shaft tight and tugged it toward me. With the tip looming a bare hand’s breadth in front of my eyes, I could see a fresh droplet of pre ooze out of his slit. “See? He’s crying because of the mean things you said about him. You don’t wanna hurt his pride more than you already have, do you? Won’t you even give your only son a kiss to make him feel better, Hiro-chan?”

            I’m sure my eyes must have shown my disgust, but Yasha didn’t react. _Did he really just talk about his dick as its own person? Now I really_ am _gonna puke. Which god did I offend to have my life put at the mercy of this…_ brat _?!_

            “Come on, Hiro-chan,” my tormentor coaxed. “Just one little kiss. Is that _really_ too much to ask?” I never could understand his impish love of pretending to ask for my consent. I almost hated it more when he would plead and wheedle and let me think I had any shred of real agency in his disgusting games. Not least because… despite knowing how things would turn out, I always felt the need to push back just a little more.

            “Yasha-kun, I mean it. I have a sensitive gag reflex. I don’t think I could…”

            A look came into the demon’s eyes that brought me up short. It wasn’t exactly a glare, but a kind of base, smoldering anger that seemed almost to age that effeminate face. I… _felt_ , rather than heard, a growled threat in his stare. A warning that his patience had run out, and that there would be consequences if I didn’t obey my husband. A reminder that he wasn’t _really_ asking. But under the force of that stare, I felt too timid to speak – even to acquiesce.

            Suddenly, the look was gone. Yasha was all grins and smiles. “That’s okay, Hiro-chan. We’ll work something else out.” Just like that, he stood up and made space for me.

            A spark of suspicion was caught in the forefront of my mind. Yasha’s dick was still rock hard, bobbing between his legs, and it wasn’t like him to give up this easily. Cautiously, I started to sit up and tilt onto my feet. Before I could stand, he leaned over, pressed a hand down on my shoulder, and forced me onto my knees. His other hand started trailing down my spine, his fingers jabbing at pressure points faster than I could react. Finally, the hand on my shoulder darted down to my leg and pressed a pressure point just below my knee. I saw a flash of something like blue fire trail along his finger and pass into my skin without sensation.

            Then there was a wrenching pain in my chest, behind my sternum. I groaned and bent double, clutching at my stomach. “What… What did you just do to me?” The pain vanished even while I was speaking, but the sense of foreboding remained.

            Yasha’s grin had acquired a fresh infusion of smugness. “I just closed your stomach from the base of the esophagus up. Nothing can get in… or out for at least the next 40 minutes. Now your gag reflex won’t hinder you from being a good, dutiful wife.”

            I gingerly touched my sternum, head reeling. With the pain gone, I didn’t feel any different. Had he really done it? “This…” I swallowed hard, shivering. It scared me to think, if Yasha could control my body to even this degree, what _else_ could he make my body do? “This isn’t right…”

            Yasha looked severely unimpressed. His smirk was now a hollow curl upon his lips. “I don’t intend to ask again.” He gave his dick a shake.

            I looked at the head of his phallus, the foreskin already half-rolled back, and took a deep breath of resignation. _It’s just a body part_ , I told myself. Then I turned on my knees to sit before the demon’s crotch, leaned forward… and… uh…

            I swallowed hard in a dry throat, then closed my eyes and pressed my lips to the tip of his warm member. ‘ _Chu_.’ I pulled back and looked up at him. Yasha had the same hollow smirk, but now there was a trace of gloating satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He gave my hair a rough tousle. “C’mon, Hiro-chan. I didn’t tell you to stop.”

            I grimaced and set back to his penis, closing my eyes as I laid kisses one after another on the head. A warm drop of pre-cum smeared my lips and I felt my stomach lurch, but as Yasha had promised, the bile never even made it to my throat. It hurt, though.

            Yasha’s hand came to rest on the back of my head, maneuvering me so that my lips trailed along the side of his shaft. I could hear him sighing with pleasure. A minute passed in this fashion, with him occasionally shifting my head or his dick to a different angle. Then, at a point when my lips were so low on the underside of his prick that I could feel my chin rubbing into his scrotum, Yasha gripped my bangs and purred, “Open your eyes, Hiro-chan. Look at me.”

            I obeyed. My right eye’s entire vision was taken up by that towering monster, pressing against my nose and forehead. Through my left eye, I saw Yasha giving me a lecherous grin. One of his hands sifted through my hair, untied my ribbon, and lazily tossed it aside. “Much better. Though from this angle, you don’t look nearly so innocent.” His cock gave a powerful throb against my face, and I felt my cheeks and ears burning with shame. “Now, here’s what I want you to do next, Hiro-chan: start kissing your husband’s nutsack. My balls have worked really hard pleasuring my wife, keeping your fallow womb from going dry, so you owe them a little affection, I’d say.”

            A whine seeped through my throat. “Yasha-kun…”

            “And another thing.” Yasha lifted his cock up higher, then swung it down to strike my face with a painful smack. I squealed, but Yasha held the back of my head in place so he could keep beating me with his dick while he spoke. “I don’t want just weak, chaste little pecks like you were giving my dick. I want a _real_ kiss. That means your tongue. Kiss my nuts like you love them, just like I kiss you. Got it?” I nodded mutely, but that wasn’t enough. “I said, _got it_?!” He punctuated the question with a particularly hard slap of his cock onto my face.

            I yelped with pain, then squealed a hasty, “Yes!”

            “Yes, who?” This time he pulled the head of his cock over to one hip, released it, and swung his hips to add to its momentum.

            His dick hit me with as much force as if it had been the back of his hand. I screamed and covered my face, and I would have fallen if Yasha hadn’t been holding me still. He brandished his cock in front of my eyes threateningly, and I scrambled to shout, “Yes, Yasha-kun my husband!”

            “That’s better,” Yasha crowed, tapping the head of his penis against the cheek he hadn’t struck yet. I shuddered and blinked away a stinging clutch of useless tears. “Since you’ve decided to be good now, I’ll even let you hold onto my cock while you make out with my balls. That way I’ll be less tempted to make you squeal again.” I didn’t need any help picking up on this bit of subtext. I always hated having to hold the monster’s flesh in my hand, but it was still better than being beaten with it.

            I held onto his shaft with one hand, and my fingers almost met my thumb as they wrapped around his girth. But as I closed my eyes and leaned forward to kiss the demon’s scrotum, Yasha’s palm met my brow and held me back, forcing me to look up at him.

            “Eyes open, Hiro-chan. You don’t want to insult my cock again, do you?”

            He was really determined to have it all his way… Overcoming my reluctance, I kept my eyes open and pressed my lips into his balls. I suppose it’s lucky that at least Yasha has no hair on his genitals, nor… anywhere on his body. Even so, my gag reflex produced a few more dry heaves until the pain in my belly overcame my disgust and I could bear to lick one of his heavy balls. After all that, it wasn’t awful. Yasha bathed every day, and the realm was too cool for either of us to sweat except when having sex. So his skin tasted fairly neutral, and it smelled just faintly of the fragrances used in our baths.

            I called back to mind Yasha’s instructions. He said to kiss his nuts… the way he kissed me. So obediently, I stuck my tongue out and grazed it against his sack. My captor moaned encouragingly, and I kept going, eyes unfocussed. This close, I could smell… _something_ emanating from him. I guess ‘musk’ is probably the only word for it, but it was… subtler. Less of a smell, more like a suggestion of a smell. It reminded me of rain, of grass, and of stone. It reminded me of grabbing bundles of dry herbs and taking them out of the sun. It reminded me of wood-smoke, and of sitting in the sand while the sun dried my skin. It…

            “Looks like somebody’s enjoying himself.” My eyes flashed open, and I only then realized that they’d been drooping shut, and my lips were wrapped most of the way around one of his heavy testicles. How long had I been doing this?...

            I moaned a weak sigh of protest, but I didn’t dare remove my lips from his flesh; I’d irritated him too much already to risk falling out of his good graces now. But when I looked up at him, Yasha had his usual, superior grin fixed on me. Casually, he balanced himself on one foot and pressed the other against my crotch. I shuddered. I’d only been wearing a fundoshi under the folds of my kimono, so Yasha was easily able to find my dick and grind the ball of his foot against it. “Don’t lie to yourself, Hiro-chan,” he smirked. “I wasn’t even touching you – YOU were making out with your husband’s virile balls, and your cock is hard as a rock. This is what makes you such good wife material.”

            I held back a growl. This had become an increasing problem of late. Yasha had spent so much time molesting me and forcing me to orgasm that now, it hardly took any physical harassment on Yasha’s part for my body to respond. Sometimes just his words were enough to make my penis engorge in answer. It was only through my daily meditations that I was able to keep a hold on my sanity.

            _This is all his doing. I could never desire this beast in my soul. He’s twisted my body to make it this way. I hate him, and I’ll sing for joy when I see him dead._

            With a sudden pull, Yasha jerked my head back with both hands and tilted my face up to look at him. In my surprise, I allowed his member to slip from my hand. It swung down, bobbed in front of me, and came to hover ominously in front of my lips, just as Yasha’s fingers were beginning to probe their way into my mouth and force my jaws apart. I kept flicking my gaze between the man’s lecherous, purple-shaded eyes, and the pendulous behemoth confronting me. Yasha slid his thumb into my cheek to stretch my lips a little wider, and his eyes glittered with malice.

            “Yeah…” he mused. His dick gave such a powerful twitch that it seemed to have a life of its own. “Your mouth looks wide enough. You should be able to fit my cock in there just fine.”

            “ _Gwauh! Shhhpach! Geeewa!_ ” I struggled vainly against his hands, feeling fresh, frightened tears welling up.

            “Hm? Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. That wouldn’t happen to have been anything to the effect of ‘no,’ would it?” Yasha offered me a threatening smile before withdrawing his fingers to let me answer.

            The smile had me caught dumb, and I just stared without reply for a moment before hazarding, “Y-you…. sai-… I… I thought you… just wanted…”

            The demon’s grin widened. “You thought I just wanted a kiss?” The smile almost disappeared, leaving only a smoldering leer. “I _did_. But then Hiro-chan had to get so fussy and disobedient, and I was forced to shut your stomach to stop you from complaining. Now that I _have_ , you can’t expect me not to take advantage of the situation. You owe me that me.”

            Self-preservation told me it would be dangerous to argue with Yasha again.

            Self-preservation told me it would be dangerous to let Yasha carry out his intentions.

            The two impulses warred inside my head until tears gushed from my eyes, and choked sobs began to jostle up from my throat. “D-d-don’t… hurt me… please… Yasha-kun…”

            The last vestiges of his grin vanished. I tried to reign myself back under control, but the dam had already been breached, and my husband’s wordless stare only swelled my with each passing second.

            “Damn it!” Yasha spat, and the hiss in his tone made me flinch. “Hiro-chan… Your cute face, your pretty eyes… You’re so weak and innocent, I just want to spoil you… But I fear that I’ve been spoiling you already to make you so obstinate.” Sympathy flashed in his eyes as his thumbs stroked my wet cheeks. “Fuck… How am I supposed to say no to those pretty eyes?”

            I held my peace, hardly daring to hope that Yasha might really have pity on me. I sniffled, looking up into his eyes. Then Yasha’s thumbs brushed across my lips, and his lust was reignited.

            “But then again,” he said, leaning in closer, “it’s this same adorable face that makes you look so totally fuckable. So I don’t think I can help myself… But if you behave yourself, I promise to be gentle.” He grinned sunnily and tapped me on the nose. “Okay?”

            It was hardly an even compromise… but it was the only option I had. “Alright.”

            “Perfect!” Yasha gave me a hasty kiss on the lips. Then he stood up and thrust the first few inches of his dick into my mouth before I had time to prepare. He was holding onto my head again, hissing through his teeth with pleasure. Instantly my jaws ached, lips stretching to accommodate his size. I suppose I should be grateful that he didn’t thrust all the way to the back of my throat with one stab in his impatience.

            Even so, I couldn’t help but gag, nearly cross-eyed with pain as my abdomen heaved against the impassible barrier in my belly. Slowly, though he trembled excitedly all the while, Yasha started to rock his hips back and forward. The warm, fleshy shaft slid between my lips and across my tongue. My whole mouth felt strained just for having it inside.

            “Slide your tongue around the head more,” Yasha ordered in a breathy flurry. It was hard to move my tongue even an inch, but Yasha didn’t seem to mind too much anyway.

            Eventually, I gave up trying to cover surface area and worked instead to get my tongue rubbing against the bottom of Yasha’s shaft. This turned out to be easier than trying to curl my tongue around the demon’s tip, and Yasha seemed to enjoy it more anyway, going by how he breathed more heavily and gripped my hair tighter.

            For a while, I was able to suffer this as merely an unpleasant chore. That was spoiled, as usual, by Yasha’s need to commentate.

            “Fuck, Hiro-chan… You’re nowhere close to the halfway mark, but _still_ it feels amazing! I should have had you start practicing this a long, long time ago so you could deepthroat me sooner. Damn… Damn! This is what you should do with your mouth whenever you feel tempted to talk back to your husband!” Each moment, I felt more and more twisted up by pain, anger, and humiliation. I wasn’t gagging anymore, but I was starting to drool. Yasha didn’t mind, since this made it easier for his flesh to slide in and out of my mouth.

            “Oh yeah… This is gonna be a regular thing from now on. I’m gonna train you till you don’t need your husband’s help to pull your throat around my dick. Your throat just feels so _good_ , Hiro-chan! Here, I’m gonna go a little deeper.”

            With no other preamble, Yasha pushed his dick further into my unresisting mouth until I felt the tip prodding the back of my throat. Hastily, I braced my hands against his hips and tried to push him back, but he didn’t budge an inch. I couldn’t breathe. Yasha was letting out a protracted groan.

            “Oh my god… Oh my god, that’s so good. This deep, it feels like your throat is massaging my dick whenever you gag. That’s so good of your body to pleasure your husband’s flesh like that.” Presently, he started to rock his hips again, and I was able to steal snatches of breath in the moments when Yasha’s prick wasn’t blocking my airway. “I love you so damn much, Hiro-chan. My perfect, fuckable, velvet-throated bride!”

            My nails clawed uselessly at the demon’s hips, trying to find some relief for my throat as it blared with pain. In desperation, I started to slap and pound my fists against his thighs to signal him to stop, but he didn’t even seem to notice. I could tell by his breathing and the set of his muscles that he was ready to cum now, but he was holding back on purpose to draw this out. When it got to be too much and my chin had become thoroughly painted in my own drool, I bit down hard.

            I didn’t expect to hurt him. I knew I couldn’t, but I hoped the grip of my teeth might at least cause some drag and slow him down. The result seemed nearly the opposite: His cock continued to thrust unabated, practically gliding under the points of my teeth, but I heard a gasp from Yasha that… could almost have been one of pain. Though too panicked to consider the facts properly, I swiftly formed the hunch that, even if I couldn’t hurt him, my bite might feel unpleasant enough that Yasha would either stop or hasten to a finish. If questioned, I could always claim that it was just my jaws cramping up – that bore a close enough resemblance to the truth.

            Sucking in the biggest breath I could and clenching my eyes shut, I clamped my teeth down as hard as I could without cracking my jaw. I heard the demon produce another low grunt and his breathing become more ragged. I wiggled my head to what extent I could to try and get a better grip. With ominous abruptness, Yasha’s hips stopped thrusting. I panted anxiously around the two inches of impenetrable flesh pulsing between my jaws.

            “Hiro-chan… are you… Are you trying to bite me?” His tone was suspiciously absent of anger or accusation. My jaw instantly slackened, and I looked up at him with a guilty apology in my tear-soaked eyes. But Yasha’s expression was one of incredulous amusement. His palm tugged on my brow as he’d done earlier, as though to get a better look at my eyes, and I cringed fearfully. “Holy shit, you really were!” Rather than rage, Yasha tilted his head back and started cackling hysterically in his booming, masculine voice. His cock pulsed with every laugh, and I tasted his pre oozing onto my tongue. “Hiro-chan, you’re so stupid! Do you really think that your blunt little human teeth could ever hurt me? With your weak little human aura?”

            Aura? What was he talking about? I kept still and gave my throat a chance to rest. Yasha seemed to be in a chatty mood.

            “Hiro-chan, you sweet little idiot… Your aura is so weak that I can’t even _see_ it unless you’re seriously angry or scared or embarrassed – or horny. And even then, it’s too faint to make out the color. Why do you think I love teasing you so much? You only really come alive when you’re all flustered.”

            This lit up my imagination like fire to oil. This was it! This was the key to Yasha invulnerability, and the fool just _told_ it to me! It was all about emotion… That’s how to hone one’s aura. And little did my husband suspect, I’d been sharpening a weapon to use against him for months now. Time for a field test…

            I pushed my mind into the meditative state I’d been practicing daily for months and felt my hatred for the demon flooding my mind, spirit, and blood. Whatever the consequence may be, if I could make this rapist’s penis bleed, then I’d count myself avenged. I had little doubt that he’d kill me if I succeeded, and that made me all the more determined. Soon enough, I felt my hatred as a fire that kindled in my belly and lapped against the underside of my skin. My teeth would become as torches and scorch his flesh. With eyes fixed on the veiny flesh in front of me, I jammed my jaws together with all the force I could muster, while in my head I screamed, _Die, Yasha!_

            “Oh wow, that’s pretty impressive,” Yasha said with wry lack of concern. “Looks like you’ve been teaching yourself some pretty tricks while I’ve been out.” His aloofness didn’t daunt me. An appealing fantasy sprang to mind of my teeth penetrating his skin with Yasha mid-quip, and his banter being interrupted by a blood-curdling shriek. That would be such a satisfying final impression before death took me.

            Yasha scratched at my scalp affectionately. “I’m afraid you’re still ten thousand years too early to do me any harm. You’re only a human – that kind of potential just isn’t _in you_.”

            For a second my focus wavered. Then I closed my eyes again and bit with renewed fury. _Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die!_

            He sighed and gently rubbed my cheek with a thumb. “Oh well. Anyway, I have to punish you now.” His cock gave a sudden, powerful throb, and a wad of pre coated my mouth.

            My rage dried up like a dam being shut. I opened my eyes and looked up at Yasha again. He was giving me a warm, sympathetic smile while he rubbed my cheek. “Really, the whole thing is too precious for me to be angry about it, but it’s the principle of the thing. Hiro-chan just tried to bite her husband’s cock; I can’t let that sort of thing go unpunished. It’s very disrespectful, you understand?”

            I shuddered. The kindly, sweet smile on his face was at odds with the cock that kept pulsing faster and harder with every word, turning my saliva into slime. Bracing the sole of his foot against my thigh to keep me sitting where I was, Yasha pulled my body forward so that I had to straighten out. Soon I had to put my arms out on the ground and brace myself, and it occurred to me in a flash what he was doing: the demon was angling my body so that it was a straight shot from my mouth down to my belly. My skin prickled with horror.

            “I’m about to get rough with you, Hiro-chan,” Yasha said in sweet, reasonable tones. “Whatever you do, make sure you keep looking up at me so I don’t hurt your hot little throat. It’ll go badly if you try to turn away or pull back. Got that?”

            My collarbone was dripping with tears and spittle. There was no resisting left to be done. I just gave a pathetic little moan and braced my hands squarely against the floor. Then Yasha thrust his hips down toward me, and I felt my throat stretching around his flesh. The pain was incredible. It felt… all wrong. Like my body was doing something it wasn’t meant to do. My body screamed at me to pull back – to get this _thing_ out of my throat so I could breathe. But Yasha wasn’t going to let me.

            He held my head behind my jaws and practically roared with satisfaction. “FUCK YES!” I could feel the veins standing out on my cheekbones, and I felt every pulse of his cock in my throat. Yasha pulled back just enough for me to draw one shallow puff of air, then slammed back home. My arms trembled, and I had to lock my elbows to be sure they wouldn’t give out. “Damn, your ass was never this tight, Hiro-chan! This is the best!”

            He started up a flurry of thrusts, resting a hand beneath my jaw where he could feel his own member sliding through my throat. I couldn’t breathe… I couldn’t breathe… He didn’t pull back far enough to let me catch my breath – not the tiniest wisp. Tears fled from my bulging eyes, and I just stared up at Yasha while he had his way with me. For a moment, he opened his eyes and saw me crying and suffocating, and I thought it was pity that made him slow down and pull back to my lips.

            I was dizzyingly grateful. My whole body trembled, and I sucked in air as hard as I could. But Yasha’s eyes were ablaze. “Holy shit,” he gasped, stroking my chin. “Hiro-chan, that expression… It’s so… so… CUTE!” On the final word, he drove his cock back into my throat with fresh enthusiasm. My eyes bulged out again, and I only just stopped my arms from collapsing on the spot. Every thrust that followed felt like it was _meant_ to hurt, but all I saw on Yasha’s face was frenzied abandon. His eyes were still fixed on mine, but they’d gone glazed and distant, and he kept babbling on and on, “Oh my god… Oh my god, I feel your heart… Your fluttering little heart is pounding all around my dick. It’s so cute… your dazed little face is so cute… cute… cute… _so fucking CUTE_!”

            His face was starting to go blurry. _Not like this…_ The demon was grinning like an idiot while he joyously raped my throat. _Please no… I want to die, but not in this… ignoble fashion…_

            “Yes! Here, my sweet, fuckable bride!” Yasha grabbed my hair with one hand and the nape of my kimono with the other, just in time to stop me from collapsing to the floor. Then I felt a hot, thick surge blasting down my throat. An agonizing sting flared up in my chest, and my throat bulged out another few inches as every bit of space that that wasn’t already taken up by Yasha’s cock suddenly flooded with sperm. It swelled back up to my mouth and started spraying out of my lips around his shaft. My throat was trying vainly to gag, again, but the head was buried far too deep. My nostrils suddenly filled up, and I felt cum gushing out of them in its search for a means of escape. My eyes gave up trying to see, but I could hear Yasha howling with ecstasy.

            I completely missed the moment when Yasha withdrew his cock from my throat. I just suddenly found myself sitting on my knees with my husband’s hands supporting me by the shoulders. I was coughing and hacking, struggling to pull air through passages clogged by the demon’s cum, and Yasha was just _roaring_ with laughter. His hands trembled upon my trembling shoulders, and a few tears of his own touched my cheeks.

            “Holy shit!” he wheezed with no small effort. I was still so concerned with making sure I was alive and breathing, I didn’t even think to wonder what he was laughing at until he offered an explanation on his own. “I got so worked up, I totally forgot you couldn’t swallow it! It all backed up your throat! That’s fucking awesome!” Fury and embarrassment filled up my head in equal measure, but I couldn’t do a thing about either of them. “Hahahaha! Ah, gross! It even came out your nose! That’s so fuckin’ _nasty_!”

            The coughing had settled a little by now, but my body was still shivering with every single exhalation. Yasha’s hands moved to my face as he knelt in front of me, finally starting to master himself as he took in the sight of my drool, cum, and tear-stained face. “Hmm, but it’s also a little bit hot, ya know? Like Hiro-chan’s guzzled so much of her husband’s cum that it’s started leaking from every pore.” Quite unexpectedly, he kissed me full on the mouth, and I felt his tongue slide against mine.

             I pulled back in disgust, and my skin was so slippery that I was actually able to get away for once. Yasha was still meeting my eyes lecherously and licking his own secondhand cum off his lips. I burst suddenly into sobs. “You… You almost killed me!”

            Yasha rolled his eyes, lifting his hand to lick at his thumb and the tips of his fingers. “Don’t be so dramatic. I wasn’t going to let you die on me.”

            I couldn’t even summon the energy to be very angry – nor disgusted by his gestures – because I still felt so frightened and… _betrayed_. “I nearly suffocated. I couldn’t breathe. I thought… thought…” I wanted to hide my face in my hands, but they’d been coated by the semen leaking from my lips. “It hurt… so much…” My chin sank to my collarbone, and yet more tears began to wash my cheeks clean.

            “Hey, hey!” Yasha said, suddenly changing tracks and stroking my hair sympathetically. “Don’t be down, Hiro-chan. It’s over now, and that was the hardest it’s ever gonna be. The worst is behind you now.” He lifted my chin then to smile into my eyes. “You made me feel _so_ amazing just then, Hiro-chan. I feel so happy that, even though that was supposed to be your punishment, I feel like rewarding you. I’m gonna wash and pamper you until your stomach opens up again, and then I’m gonna find you a new book tomorrow.” He giggled, tucking a sticky strand of hair behind my ear. “And maybe a new kimono as well. That one’s _ruined_.” He licked another taste of spunk off the corner of my jaw. “Now, let’s get you in the bath… Messy girl.”

            Each word just drained me. Every time he spoke like this, talking like he was concerned for me and yet saying things so irrespective of my true feelings, it made me feel less real. Less like a person. Less like my thoughts mattered. I felt, more and more concretely, that I was his property.

            _But you aren’t_ , said a quiet voice inside of me. As Yasha helped me out of my clothes and started to get the bath ready, the voice carried on. _You aren’t his, and you never will be. Just let him think that you are. Let the fool think that he’s seduced you and that you’re his simpering, obedient wife. Let him even think that you love him. This idiot of a man-child, so eager to buy into his own delusions, will be easy to trick. When the chance comes and his back is turned, he’ll be too late to spot the real Hiroshi Sato behind the mask._

            Those quiet words were enticing… but I was beginning to doubt that there was any hope in them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all for reading! 
> 
> Feel free to leave me any comments or questions you might have.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Happy birthday, Hiro-chan!”

            I suppose that was the event that finally drove home the need to obey. From then on, I didn’t complain or argue when Yasha gave me a command. If he told me to hold or kiss his genitals, then I did. If he told me to get on my knees and expose myself for him, I did. When he told me to pleasure him to climax, and then drink his semen, I gulped and gulped until my belly ached and told him it was delicious. My newfound obedience was not lost on Yasha, and he occasionally made games of seeing how far he could push me.

            Once, he had me stand with my legs apart and bend over double so I could see him between the fork of my legs. In this dreadfully awkward pose, he bade me use one hand to pleasure my sphincter with my fingers, and to masturbate with the other. Meanwhile, he stood behind me, stroking his own member and grinning at me with sadistic pleasure. “Let me know when you’re about to cum,” he ordered.

            My stomach seized up at the prospect of having to attain climax – under my own power – with Yasha watching. And I knew as well as he did that power was the point of this little exercise. ‘Don’t forget,’ his eyes said, ‘I own you. Even your free will can be bent to serve me, just like your body does.’

            It took a long time for me to cum. So long that my legs began to burn from the awkward stance. I thought of saying that I couldn’t do it, but if I did, I knew that Yasha would say something like, ‘What’s the matter? Can’t cum without your husband’s dick? That’s okay. Just ask nicely and I’ll fuck you stupid.’ I tried to finger myself a little deeper, but… my aching legs were going to give out before I did at this rate.

            I looked up at the spirit imploringly. “Yasha-kun… can I please lie down to finish this?”

            He gave me a nod. Relieved, I rolled onto my side as I allowed my body to fall to the floor, hands still positioned at my cock and anus. But as I fell into place, I looked down and saw Yasha kneeling in front of me, wearing that sadistic grin and stroking himself. The tip of his cock couldn’t have been more than a hand’s breadth from my thighs.

            “Keep those legs spread, darling. And don’t forget to tell me when you’re about to cum.”

            It was impossible not to feel vulnerable and self-conscious. I almost felt that he was touching me with his eyes. And he was patient – content to wait three hours for me to climax, if it meant he got to watch me squirm.

            “Does it feel good, Hiro-chan?” he asked after about half an hour when my belly was covered in shiny patches of pre.

            Another game; ‘answer Yasha’s questions correctly.’ “Yes…” For the purposes of this game, ‘correct’ is defined as ‘whatever makes Yasha happy.’

            “Does it feel as good as my big dick in your little asspussy?” After all this time, he still used ‘ _ore-sama,_ ’ even when speaking to his ‘darling wife.’

            “No, Yasha-kun.”

            “Does that mean you’d rather I was fucking you right now?” He brandished his cock so that it almost tapped against my exposed hole.

            I blushed dark under his stare. “I… Y… Yes, Yasha-kun.”

            “You hesitated.” Yasha leaned in closer. “You _would_ have come by now if it was me screwing you, right?”

            “Yeah…” The really humiliating thing was that, after so long listening to Yasha tease and harass me before getting me off, my body was practically conditioned to it. His mockery was putting me closer to the edge.

            “You’re a slut, aren’t you Hiro-chan?”

            I whined a little, resisting the urge to squeeze my legs together. I decided to risk testing the demon’s liberties. “Please… Please don’t call me that, Yasha-kun.”

            “But you are. You just admitted you’d rather have my dick, but you’re still getting off with just your fingers.” I gulped hard, squirming and not knowing what to say. “But at least you’re a slut with some shame. Your face is redder than your pink little pussy right now.”

            I shivered, and a spurt of pre shot past my navel. Shyly, I slid a third finger into my ass, massaging my prostate as best I could.

            “Do you want somebody’s dick inside you, Hiro-chan?” I nodded. “Whose?”

            “Yasha-kun’s.”

            “Just mine?”

            “Only yours.”

            That made his eyes light up in an instant. “Because you’re _my_ slut, aren’t you?”

            _Will you please get tired of this already_? “Yes, Yasha-kun…”

            “Say it.”

            I grit my teeth, feeling a twitch in my prick. “I’m… Yasha-kun’s slut.”

            “Again.”

            _Damn you, you awful bastard!_ “I’m Yasha-kun’s slut!”

            The demon hoisted himself up onto his knees so he was practically looming over me. “Louder!”

            “I’m Yasha-kun’s slut! I’m Yasha-kun’s slut!”

            “Again!” _Answer ‘correctly,’ Hiro-chan._

            I hissed between my teeth, feeling my hips buck against my fingers. “I’m Yasha-kun’s slut! His fuck-toy! I’m a slut for my husband’s massive dick! I-I… I’m gonna cum… I’m gonna cum!”

            Just as I felt the surge of climax rushing through my flesh, Yasha grabbed me and lifted my hips up over my head so that I shot my load right onto my own face before I could stop myself. Some of it landed in my mouth. When I turned to spit it out, Yasha lowered my hips just in time to blow his own load. My body was drenched in seconds. It was as hot as steaming bath water, and the demon aimed with sadistic care to leave no inch of my skin untouched. I tried to cover my face, but it was too late. It had even gotten in my hair, and in my anus in the brief second before I withdrew my fingers.

            After a minute, when Yasha finally stopped and rested a moment to come down from his high, he looked me in the eyes with a grin of weary smugness. “Hey, Hiro-chan, you know something?”

            “What?” I asked dolefully, hearing clicks from the sticky semen coating my lips.

            “Everything touched by my seed belongs to me.”

            _Bastard._

 

            Still…

            Even Yasha’s continuous efforts to humiliate me for his own entertainment had been somewhat routine for some time now. And if I had to endure more, my obedience also earned me more of Yasha’s lenience. Once, I got tired of constantly being molested while I was getting dressed, so I asked Yasha to find me a partition for privacy. I entirely expected it to be a contentious request, so I waited until he was in a good mood to ask.

            He was certainly hesitant. At one point in the debate, he asked me point-blank, “Why don’t you want to let me see you?” in a voice so piteously injured, you’d think I was asking to live in a separate house.

            So seeing that I wasn’t likely to get it, I smiled and said, “I just thought it might be nice once in a while to be able to surprise you with a change of clothes. Build some anticipation. But if it makes you uncomfortable, it’s not especially important to me.” Then I changed the topic to something unlikely to upset him.

            It really was my intention to let the matter drop there. I hadn’t held out much hope of getting the screen anyway. But then, after being unusually quiet for about ten minutes, Yasha surprised me by bringing up the partition again and agreeing to get it for me.

            “After all,” he said, “your shyness is just one of your more adorable feminine charms. I can hardly blame you for trying to be a tease – it’s just in your nature.” Within the week, he’d brought me a four-paneled partition, painted with a white cherry-blossom tree. The paper was thick enough that, with no strong light source in the realm, not even my silhouette could be seen through it.

            It was tough to know what to make of this sudden change of heart. But after some consideration, I decided that Yasha had done it for his own selfish reasons as much as anything else, and thus the status quo remained in balance.

            Besides the partition, Yasha found a few more books, and not all of them were romances this time. There were histories, science texts, translations of Chinese folklore, and even an atlas. An atlas of distant lands I would never visit. I studied it with unhealthy fascination.

            And one last gift came unlooked for: Makeup.

            For some time now, Yasha had been literally grooming me to his satisfaction. Every morning when I went behind the partition to get dress, he would sit and stare at the barrier to do his hair and paint his face. Then he would call me over to sit in front of him and spend long minutes combing my hair before tying it in a style that suited his tastes for the day. Sometimes after finally getting my hair into a particular style, he would hum to himself for a few seconds, then let my hair down and start over. By this point, my hair only reached an inch or so past the nape of my neck, and it astonished me that he found enough to do with my hair to be worth the bother. Nevertheless, it wasn’t uncommon for him to spend more than an hour on the task, and it never seemed to wear him out.

            Recently, once my hair was finished, he would pull over the same box of makeup he used for his own face and do what he called “touch-up.” According to Yasha, all he was doing was “accenting my features.” He said that after he was finished, my face appeared cleaner, smoother, and healthier, but still my own. I can’t say whether this was true or not, but he never made me wear lipstick or eyeshadow, so I’ve no reason to doubt him. Once this ritual was complete, he would look at me this way and that to check his work, then smile and declare, “You’re perfect, Hiro-chan. I swear, you look more and more beautiful every day.”

            One day, Yasha woke up with morning wood and stuffed my belly to bulging before we even got out of bed. That put me in a rather surly mood, and so after Yasha attended to my appearance, I replied to his usual ‘compliment’ with a retort: “Hard to find that sincere when you’re so obviously the _pretty_ one between us.”

            I chose the more feminine term, of course, to act as an underhanded slight – to pinch at his masculine dignity the way he so often did with mine. But it fell completely flat. Yasha’s face lit up, giddy with pleasure, and he thanked me with a flurry of kisses. _Capricious git._

            This ritual went on unbroken for months, and that was the only time I remarked on it. I never once associated it with the promise he’d made long ago on my first night in the Underworld when he said he could keep me young and beautiful forever. In fact, I hardly ever thought about that first night at all. Not until… the day it was called back to mind.

 

            I was in a dream. I might have been aware that it was a dream as well. I was in a sort of catacomb whose walls were all made of water like the barrier of Yasha’s realm. I knew I was deep under the sea, and that one of these branching tunnels would lead me to freedom, if I could only find it. Just then, my running feet ground to a halt when I saw someone. It was… Hiroshi Sato. Who, at that moment, _I_ was in the dream didn’t seem like an important question.

            He seemed unaware of me as I approached, and I had to shake him by the shoulders to get his attention. “Hiroshi!” I cried. “Hiroshi, come on! We have to get out of here before he finds us!”

            Our eyes met. Hiroshi blinked, then shrugged my hand off his shoulder. “Who the hell are you?” Again I reached out to take his shoulder, and again he shrugged my hand off. The third time I grabbed Hiroshi’s shoulder, I felt my own shoulder being shaken.

            “Hiro-chan!” I heard Yasha calling as my eyes opened slowly. The demon jostled my shoulder again, dislodging the last wisps of dream from my vision. “Wake up, Hiro-chan! I have a surprise for you!”

            “Nnngh…” I lifted my head weakly, squinting as the world came into focus. I saw two light shapes in front of me. Blinking and peering at them again, I saw that they were… “Mochi?” Big ones. Resting on a wooden platter, each one looked half as wide as my head.

            “And?” Yasha was grinning, knees bouncing as he crouched beside me.

            I looked again… and saw that there were slits scored into each one. The one on the upper side of the platter had a pair of parallel lines etched horizontally. The one nearest me had two perpendicular lines forming a cross in the middle. In my drowsy state, it took a long time for me to recognize the lines for numbers. I looked at Yasha. “Twenty?”

            He looked like he was about to pop with delight. “Happy birthday, Hiro-chan!”

            My head went blank but for the word ‘birthday.’ My lips mouthed it noiselessly. Then I sat up straight. “My birthday?!”

            Yasha leapt upon me, assaulting my face with kisses, giggling in a manner unbecoming of his manly voice. I couldn’t remember any other time I’d seen him _this_ elated. You’d think _he_ was the one having a birthday. And his excitement was a little infectious.

            After a minute of tussling upon the futon, enduring kisses everywhere from my ears to my sternum, I finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “How… how did you know? I’ve never talked about it before.”

            “Because your Yasha-kun is just amazing.” He attacked my neck with even more kisses and tried to tickle my ribs. I’m not ticklish in my ribs, thankfully, but a few laughs did slip out while I tried to push his face back. His lips and breath tingled against my skin, and the sight of those… really delectable mochi first thing in the morning was making me vulnerable to his good mood.

            “Oh!” I cried, managing to wrestle my shoulder out from under him. “I’ve got it!”

            Yasha leaned back, tilting his head curiously. “Hm?”

            “It was my travel pass. That had mine and my father’s birthdays written on it, so you would have-”

            “No, I told you I’m just awesome,” Yasha interrupted with a rapid-fire burst of syllables.

            “You… but… that…” I floundered, stymied by the sheer childishness of my husband’s reply.

            “I’m. Awesome.” Again, he fixed me with that toothy smirk. For some reason, it didn’t seem nearly as detestable as it ought.

            “Ah… Yeah,” I said, agreeing because it was the path of least resistance. “thank you.”

            My thanks stretched his smile even wider, and he wiggled his shoulders with excitement. “My pleasure!” Quickly, he reached for the platter and held it under my nose. “C’mon, eat breakfast! I have a lot in store for you today! God, this is exciting! My heart’s pounding so hard. I’ve never thrown anyone a birthday party before!”

            I took the nearer mochi, marked 十 which was so big that I needed two hands to hold it. I couldn’t remember the last time Yasha had looked so excited just to see me eat as when I took that first bite. My reaction didn’t disappoint. “Wow, that’s pretty good!” I confessed, trying to downplay my reaction and failing fantastically. “Did you make these?” I stuffed another bite into my mouth while listening to the answer. This was, without competition, the sweetest red bean paste I’d ever tasted in a mochi.

            “No, it wasn’t me,” Yasha admitted with a bashful smile. “I’ve never quite gotten the hang of mochi. I gave a little girl’s spirit in the overworld a pair of coral earrings to make them for me.”

            That made me feel a little easier about complimenting the mochi. “She did a really good job. Can you tell her thanks for me next time you see her?”

            Yasha blinked and seemed a little thrown by the request. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. If you want.”

            “You should.” I smiled before taking another bite. The skin was so perfectly stretchy – soft and smooth like… well, like skin.

            As I took my fourth bite, a hint of melancholy started to infect my mood. My mother had also made me mochi on my birthday. Dumplings as well. This was the first time I’d had to spend a birthday without them…

            Chewing more slowly, I offered them a prayer.

            _Mom. Dad. Oniitachi. Imouto-san. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. It doesn’t feel right for me to be happy when you’re all gone. But… I hope you’ll forgive me if just this once… just for a day… for a little while… I take a short break from hating Yasha. I promise to hate him extra hard tomorrow._

            I looked down at the second mochi. My stomach was already filling up fast, and thought I’d be sick if I tried to eat both at one sitting. So I picked up the one marked 二 and held it out to my husband. “Here. You can have this one.”

            “What? Why? I thought you said it was good.” He sounded shocked and not a little hurt.

            “It is,” I said, offering a placating smile. “But they’re so big, there’s no way I can eat them both.”

            “But… they’re for your birthday. I got them specially for you.” He wasn’t at all happy. “You can always save it for later if you don’t want it right now.”

            Truthfully, I didn’t think I would have an appetite for it twice in one day, but it was pointless to say so. Yasha seldom let little things like pragmatism, logic, or moderation spoil his fun. I would have to appeal to him emotionally.

            “Please, it’s okay,” I coaxed. “And anyway… food always tastes better when it’s shared with someone you love, right?” I could almost picture my parents’ judgmental stares, but I quieted them, thinking, ‘ _I’m just saying it to appease him. It’s fine._ ’

            But suddenly, a look came over Yasha that made me think I’d made a mistake. His face went blank, and he stared at me wide-eyed. I thought he might have been angry, but I wasn’t sure. His lips parted, but no sound came out. I had never – literally _never_ – seen him do that before. Just as I was about to retract my offer, he swallowed and voiced a quiet, “Okay.”

            I held out my hand a little further. As Yasha took the mochi, I noticed that his hand was trembling slightly. His ‘Thanks’ was uttered so quietly I could only understand by reading his lips. The whole thing was… disquieting. I dug back into my own breakfast before I could get too caught up thinking about what it meant.

            For once, I was now the one watching _him_ anxiously from the corner of my eye and waiting for him to eat. Yasha stared at the ball in his hands, but his eyes never really focused on it. He seemed lost in a world of his own while I chewed slowly on my own. For a bare moment, it occurred to me that maybe he was reluctant to eat the mochi because it was drugged. But that notion didn’t hold up to scrutiny; what could he possibly achieve by drugging me that he couldn’t force me to do anyway? My fears were laid to rest as a smile crossed his face, and then he bit into his mochi.

            “Wow!” he exclaimed, tucking the whole bite into one cheek. “It really _is_ good! I’m so glad I managed to find her! I hope this makes a good first birthday present.”

            I just smiled and went on eating in silence.

            After breakfast, Yasha gave me my second and third presents together. The second was a necklace with an uncut ruby at the end of a black silk cord. Despite its unrefined quality, it was oddly captivating, and its rough edges invited the eye to study it for ages. The third was a delicate fan made all of peacock tailfeathers. There was no denying it was a beautiful fan, and crafted much better than I’d have thought possible with such puffy feathers. Still, it seemed a little gaudy for my tastes.

            After receiving these, we played games together. Propper games. I was too slow for any physical games like tag, but we did have some fun with ‘shiritori.’ Yasha was… better than I’d have expected, but I suppose he _had_ had a lot of time to read over the centuries. In fact, he beat me handily in every round except the last one, after which he did a very poor job of pretending that he hadn’t lost on purpose. I’m not sure if he wanted me to know it was out of pity or not. Either way… I wasn’t angry.

            After that, I changed into my favorite kimono behind the partition, and Yasha started tending to my hair. We sat in companionable silence for the first three minutes, and I found the sensation of the comb trailing through my hair soothing in a way I’d never noticed before. Then to my surprise, he starting reciting poetry to me. Good poetry. After just a few lines, I was captivated, and I closed my eyes to let the images roll through my mind. Yasha’s deep, masculine voice was ideal for the recitation, and relaxing like the purr of a cat. I went into a kind of half-lidded trance while I listened. By the end of his recitation, the combing was finished.

            For today, he wrapped my hair into a bun and used the comb to hold it in place. Then he laid a scroll beside my knee. This, my fourth gift, was a collection of poems by Ono no Minemori. He had committed the first three of them to memory, and it was these that he’d been reciting while he combed my hair.

            As my fifth present, Yasha gave me five blank scrolls and a brand-new set of brushes. The scrolls in particular were of the finest quality paper I’d ever touched. A little anxiously, Yasha said that these were, “in case reading such good poetry should inspire you to write your own.” Truthfully, I thought I should feel ashamed to defile such good paper with my own scribbles.

            He gave me plenty of time to digest Ono no Minemori’s work, and then let me keep reading as he went to prepare our noon meal. My fingers traced the lines of black and red ink. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the beautifully calligraphed verses until Yasha called me over to eat.

            “Looks like that one’s your favorite,” he said with a grin.

            I was going to reply, but when our eyes met, I became so bashful that all I could do was look away and mutter a soft, “Yeah…”

            There was an egg in each of our bowls, and Yasha was just pulling the pot of rice off the fire. “ _Tamago kake gohan_?” I asked, slightly amused. “First mochi for breakfast, and now egg on rice for lunch? I’m a little scared to know what you have planned for dinner.”

            He bristled a little. “I just want to spoil my Hiro-chan extra hard, ‘cos it’s your birthday. Are you seriously complaining?”

            “Nope,” I answered with grinning flippancy.

            Yasha stared at me, and gradually a smirk crept onto his lips. “Brat.”

            A guffaw leapt from my throat. “Hey! You can’t call me a brat; I’m twenty years old today!”

            “Then you’re still less than a tenth of my age, so I can call you a brat all I like, _shorty_.”

            I tried to look offended, but I couldn’t hide my laughter. “Wow! _Wow_! So much for spoiling me today, huh?”

            He rolled his eyes. “I already _have_ spoiled you. Now come crack your egg before the rice gets cool, brat.”

            My attempt at a glare was spoiled by the laughter still boiling in my belly. It wouldn’t leave me alone, even as I beat my egg into the rice. In no time, my bowl had become a frothy, yellow cream that seemed to complement my mood.

            _I have to stop this,_ I told myself. _This is dangerous, this bantering we’re doing. He’s too seductive – too likable – when I’m seeing this side of him. I mustn’t start to think of him as a friend._

            Even so, my heart started pounding outrageously whenever I caught his affectionate little smirks. I blushed and avoided his gaze, but there was no hiding the helpless smile on my lips. And then, when he finished his bowl before me, set it to the side, and leaned over to rest an affectionate hand on my knee, I… I…

            …

            … Anyway…

            After lunch, Yash sent me back to reading while he washed the dishes. When that was accomplished, he took up one of the copies I’d completed some time ago and lay behind me to read. I pretended not to feel the heat from his body so close to my back, and I thanked my lucky stars that he never tried to do more than stroke my waist.

            “Do we have any tea?” I asked at some point.

            Yasha’s hand came to a sudden stop, and I half-turned to look over my shoulder. Then his arm wrapped around to squeeze my waist, and he blew a raspberry against the back of my neck.

            “Agh!” I squealed and thrashed.

            “You brat!” Yasha growled playfully in my ear.

            “What?” I yelped, laughing while I fought against his arm.

            “I got you tea. I got you very, very _special_ tea! I was going to surprise you with it as one last gift after we took our evening bath. But then you had to go and ask about it and ruin the surprise, you little twerp.” He stuck a finger in my mouth and tugged at the corner with one hand, then tugged on my ear with the other.

            “Eee!” I cried, thrashing my legs and catching his wrists to try and stop him from pulling any harder. “Ah’m shorree! Ah’m shorree!” He let go, and I rolled around to face him, glaring with mock outrage. “Don’t bully me, Yasha-kun! It’s my birthday!”

            “Yeah, I remember.” We stared at each other for a moment, and then Yasha leaned in to kiss me. I almost leaned up to meet the kiss, but caught myself at the last second and let Yasha come in all the way. In the back of my mind, I felt my parents’ disapproving stares.

            _I know, I know. Just a little bit longer. I’ll be more careful._

            I was able to go back to reading while Yasha set up the teapot. The tea itself was stored in a fascinatingly ornate wooden box painted red and yellow, with delicate white sea shells framing the lock. Yasha handled the box with enormous care, in a way he did with few other things. “There’s only enough for one cup of tea, but it’ll be worth it. You’ll see.” His voice brimmed with barely contained excitement. Glancing up from Minemori’s scroll, I caught him handling a small, blue vial, but I couldn’t make out whether it contained a liquid or a powder.

            After only five minutes, he called, “Okay, come on over. It’s not too hot.”

            Sliding up to the table, I inhaled an aroma like flowers in the air and blinked. “So, what kind of tea is it?”

            Yasha returned a mischievous grin. “You won’t believe me if I tell you. You have to try it first.”

            “Alright,” I said, resting on my knees with an eager grin. As Yasha slid the cup in front of me, first impressions were good. The tea was an entrancing green-blue color that shimmered metallically. I made no effort to hide my awe.

            I took hold of the cup but hesitated to lift it off the table. “This… It looks too precious to drink.”

            Yasha laughed a little. “But you will. And the third time you lift it to your lips, you absolutely _must_ drink all of it to the last drop. That’s the rule.” He kept a lightness of tone as he said it, but there was a strange insistence in his attitude.

            I gave him a sidelong grin. “Of course. That’s just proper etiquette.” Carefully, I lifted the cup and held it to my lips for a small sip. Like Yasha said, it wasn’t too hot. Indeed, it was only just warm enough, and I didn’t wait long to lift it up for a larger mouthful. “It’s good,” I said quietly.

            It had a wholly remarkable flavor, being both floral and sweet at once, with just a slight bite tempered by a taste I couldn’t identify. For all that, however, it was _not_ the best tea I’d ever had. It was just unusually good. With Yasha watching with bated breath, I lifted the cup to my lips a third time and raised it overhead to drain every last particle.

            As the last swallow passed the back of my throat, it went from hot to icy cold, and I gasped with surprise. I touched my throat. It wasn’t an unpleasant chill, but it had taken me by surprise. A gentle warmth was moving through my limbs and the tips of my fingers. My spirit felt lifted. Everything in the realm, including Yasha’s skin, seemed to grow brighter and lighter for a moment, as though my eyes themselves were flashing. I met my husband’s eyes. His jaw had dropped, and he was staring at me in open amazement.

            I felt fine, but his face worried me a little. “What is it?” I asked, making sure my tone was calm and even. “Did something happen?”

            “Your eyes,” Yasha said barely above a whisper. I reached up and touched my cheek just below my right eye. “Yeah, I _did_ notice something weird, like they were… glowing or something.” It felt fairly blasé to talk about the supernatural after how long I’d been down here.

            Yasha shook his head. “They changed color.”

            That caught me by surprise. I glanced at the cup I’d set back on the table. The inside of the cup was bone-dry, as though it hadn’t been used. Not a trace of the tea had been left behind. “Is it… supposed to do that? How long did it last?”

            “It hasn’t stopped… I don’t think it’s going to change back.” He sounded as taken aback as I was.

            I looked around in search of a mirror, then remembered we didn’t have one. When I looked back, Yasha had pulled out a piece of paper from somewhere, and his eyes were scanning it intently.

            “Yasha-kun…”

            He didn’t acknowledge me. His lips were moving, and I thought I read, “Is this supposed to happen?” I peered closer at the sheet of paper. It was densely packed with an untidy scrip I didn’t recognize.

            “Oh, here!” Yasha said with relief. “This _is_ a possible side-effect. It’s benign… but permanent.”

            My heart produced one dreadful thump that reverberated all the way up to my jaw bone. “Yasha-kun… What’s going on?” Glancing again at the paper in his lap with the word ‘side-effect in my head, a few more kanji leapt out form the sloppy writing on the page. I saw the words ‘dosage’ and ‘expiration.’ A prescription?

            Yasha offered me a sheepish little smile, rubbing the back of his head. “Well… It looks like your eyes are gonna stay like that…”

            He was about to say more, but I couldn’t stop myself. “Like what?”

            “They’re sort of… blue and green and… like the tea was. They’re…” He stopped, struck with an idea. In a blur, he retrieved the peacock fan he’d gifted to me and pointed to it. “Your eyes look like this now.”

            The good mood I’d been in all day was starting to waver. Yasha had just… changed my appearance without my consent. Without even telling me. He just… didn’t think it was worth mentioning? No, he had been surprised by it. He had wanted it to be a ‘surprise.’ But… that was an awfully invasive kind of surprise…

            Yasha seemed to notice something of my inner conflict. “It’s okay! It’s just a side-effect, and it will have no negative impact on your vision. It’s actually kind of pretty…” He licked his lips. “In fact, it’s stunning…”

            The compliment slid right off of me. “What’s the _main_ effect?”

            His smile spread wide, chest swelling up proudly. “That… was the Elixir of Life.”

            I blinked. I ran his last sentence through my head again. And again. And again. I fed it through my attention one word at a time. There wasn’t a single word I didn’t understand, but taken as a whole… Trying to understand his sentence was like trying to squeeze water out of a rock. “What?”

            Yasha’s smile hadn’t faded. “The Elixir of Life. Unspeakably difficult to get the ingredients, but… I did it! And I found a medicine maker to brew it for you. It’s not eternal life, but…” He wiggled excitedly where he sat. “Your life just increased ten-fold! We have at least 200 years of happy marriage ahead of us, Hiro-chan!”

            I stared dumbly. Yasha’s grin seemed stained onto his face. He’d told me about his costliest, most special gift, and now he was waiting for me to bury him with gratitude and praise. But I felt neither inside of me.

            _Why? Why has this happened? Why am I filled with this dread?_

            “Wow,” I breathed, just to show Yasha some trace of a reaction. He seemed to think this a good start. His grin stretched even wider, hips and shoulders wiggling with fresh excitement. Two hundred years… Two hundred years of living with… of being his…

            Unbidden, the memory of my family all standing on the ferry as they were about to cross the Sanzu River came to mind. I remembered lifting my hand in their direction. My hand looked so small… so very far from them… Now, they seemed to be stretching further and further off into the distance.

            “Um…” Despite the tea I’d just drunk, my mouth felt unbearably parched. The problem wasn’t just finding the right words, but choosing which of my dozen thoughts to voice. “Is there… an antidote?”

            Yasha’s eyes, squinting nearly shut because of his grin, opened just a tiny bit wider. There was no other change in his expression. He didn’t reply. For a long, long moment, he was like a grinning statue.

            The smile fell off his face like a tapestry falling off a wall, making me cringe at the suddenness. “What the hell do you mean, ‘antidote’? Of course there isn’t an antidote; it isn’t a poison. Why would you need an antidote?”

            My shoulders were trembling, but I held onto my courage.

            “I… I was just wondering… because…” I faltered. What was I supposed to say?

            Yasha slid around the table and pushed right up into my face with a vicious scowl. “What? Why did you ask me that? What’s wrong? Are you trying to say you don’t like it? Why not?” He waited about four seconds for a response, in which time I couldn’t even decide which question to answer. “Hiro-chan!” Yasha barked, leaning closer and looming over me. I couldn’t meet his eye. “What’s the matter with you? You don’t _want_ it? It’s the Elixir of Life! It’s another 200 years to live! There are so many humans who would literally _kill_ for something like that! You’re not happy? Not even a little bit? Do you _want_ to die?”

            “Yasha-kun,” I said weakly, ducking my head lower as I felt his voice booming upon the back of my neck.

            “Do you?!” His knee was nudging at my thigh. “Do you not love me? Do you want to leave me alone? Do you have any idea how heartbroken I’ll be when you die? Why aren’t you happy about this, Hiro-chan?” I definitely couldn’t answer any of those questions. I felt tears pushing up to my eyes.

            Yasha took hold of my wrist and squeezed it viciously. I groaned, avoiding his eyes as he tried to make me look at him. “You’re making me angry, Hiro-chan! I want an answer right now!”

            I groaned as his grip on my wrist grew tighter. “Yasha-kun…” I pleaded.

            “Tell me!” he demanded. Suddenly, his grip slackened, though he didn’t release me. “Hiro-chan… _Why?_ ” He emphasized the word. He sounded pained just to be asking – asking this question for which he’d mocked me so many times. “I don’t understand, Hiro-chan. I’ve done so much. I’ve been so good to you. Why…”

            I had seen enough of Yasha’s moods to know that this vulnerable state wouldn’t last long. So, though it made something within me crack, I began to dredge up my feelings as they occurred to me and spit them through my lips. “I miss them…” A sob escaped along with the words. Yasha went quiet. “I never got to say goodbye… I couldn’t even bury them. I… They were my family.”

            I had to stop and breathe for a few seconds. I was managing to hold back my sobs, but tears keep seeping out like a leaky stove pot. At some point, though Yasha was still holding my wrist, his grip had ceased to be painful. “I want… to see them again… I need… to _be_ with them!” I shuddered and gulped back a sob, then proceeded hastily, “I mean, I know that they’re beyond the Sanzu River, and that I would have to die first, I just…” I clenched my eyes shut.

            I had reached the limit of truths that were safe to tell. Now, shaken though I was, I had to edit and fabricate the rest. “It was comforting to know that I would be reunited with them in less than a century. Learning that the length of our separation has been tripled… There might be some good things about it, but it really came as a shock. That’s why it… why I…”

            “… Okay.” Yasha gingerly let go of my wrist. I turned to look at him. He was smiling at me gently, but there was something… painful in his eyes. I almost thought I saw the corner of his lips twitching as he went on, “It’s okay, Hiro-chan. You’re human, and you… have a lot of ties that I don’t know much about.” He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to one side in recollection. “I did a lot of research on ways to make you live longer… I wanted to find something that would preserve your youth as well as your life, and something that wouldn’t corrupt your body or your spirit. In fact… all along, my thought was of how _not_ to hurt you with this gift. I guess I overlooked this one way that… the nature of the gift itself might cause you distress. I’m…” His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry.”

            Those words were torn from him. I could hardly believe I’d heard them. Yasha still wore that forced smile while we looked at each other.

            ‘ _I’m sorry._ ’ It almost didn’t sound right ringing in his voice.

            Hesitantly, he held out his hand, palm up. It took me a moment to realize what he wanted and reach out my own hand for him to take. He kissed the backs of my fingers, then slid over to my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He started to stroke my flank.

            “Hiro-chan…” He pulled the comb out to let my hair come down and trail his fingers through it. “I know this might come off as an odd consolation, but… at the Sanzu River, the spirits of the dead are given a tea that makes them forget their former lives. So… however long it takes you to reach them, it’ll feel like no time at all once you cross over, yourself. And in the meantime, they’re not… in agony about your absence. They won’t remember you until you’re all reunited, and then they’ll be just as happy whether it took one year or one millennium. So… don’t be too sad, okay?”

            I recognized that there were… consoling elements to what he said. But none of it made me feel any better. All I could think of was… how long the road ahead of me looked. Longer than humans were meant to travel. “But… What if their souls are reincarnated before I make it?”

            Yasha was quiet for a moment, stroking my hair. “Then… you won’t remember to miss them. But you could always encounter them in a later life.”

            That didn’t help either. But I took a long, resigned breath. At least the crisis seemed to be over. “Okay.”

            He brushed my bangs out of my eyes. “It has… been a pretty good birthday for the _most part_ , right?” he asked with shy optimism.

            I swallowed, feeling very conflicted by the question. “Yeah… I guess so.”

            Yasha looked hurt by my reply. After a moment, I caught a hint of a resentful scowl for just an instant. Then it was hidden under a smile before I could be sure I’d seen it. “See? I’m not totally dumb. I know what’s good for my cute little wife.” He rubbed my cheeks affectionately, wiping tears away from my eyes. “Come on. Let’s… try another game.”

            After that… I don’t really remember what games he played. We might have had dinner as well, but if we did, I can’t remember what it was. I just couldn’t focus. But… I remember that more than once, I glanced at Yasha out of the corner of my eye and… I could have sworn he was glaring at me. But whenever I turned to look at him, he was wearing his usual grin like nothing was wrong.

            Close to evening, Yasha pulled me to his side again and buried his face in my shoulder, inhaling deeply. “Hiro-chan,” he breathed. “I’m feeling pretty tense right now… Any chance you could help your husband mellow out before our bath?”

            The ironic thing was, for once it actually sounded like a request. Like he would have listened and respected me if I refused. But… Maybe it had just become a habit to oblige my husband whenever he wanted sex, or maybe I thought refusing would be bad idea because I could sense the fragility inside him. Either way, I gave him my consent with a tentative smile.

            It didn’t start out too bad. His manner was affectionate and gentle, seeming to ‘help me’ out of my clothes rather than strip me. He gave me lots of kisses and rubbed my limbs in a way that resembled a massage. Then he laid me down on my stomach and eased himself in gently. But… it got worse. Yasha seemed restive, and every minute or so he wanted to change positions. He’d never been so finnicky. And after a while, he was just taking _way_ too long. Sex, which almost always felt like a chore, now felt like absolute drudgery.

            At some point, we returned to the position we’d started in, with me on my belly, hands splayed in front of me, and Yasha resting either hand on my hip and shoulder. A stream of senseless bed-talk was pouring from his lips, and I was doing my best to ignore it other than to obey his commands. But then…

            “Yeah, that’s good, Hiro-chan, push that ass back. Squeeze me, boy. Bounce that pussy on Daddy’s dick.”

            My marrow froze. I stared at the floor without seeing it. I moved my lips, and a voice I didn’t recognize came out. “Get off of me.”

            I felt a jolt in Yasha’s muscles as he came to a stop. When I looked over my shoulder, his eyes were wide and startled. “How dare you!” I bellowed in a voice like grinding boulders. “My father is dead. You _murdered_ him! How dare you speak of him! Don’t you _ever_ try to sully his memory, you villainous cur!”

            Suddenly, my body was flung off to one side, rolling and tumbling across the realm’s stone floor. When I came to a stop and lifted my head, Yasha was still crouching right where he’d been, glaring at me with teeth bared.

            “Hiroshi-tan,” he snarled, using a moniker I hadn’t heard for months. “You… fucking imbecile!” I saw him lift one foot beneath him, a blur, and then he was crouched over me and pushing my head against the stone floor with the heel of his hand. “It’s a game, Hiro-chan, just a fucking _game_! I’m not your father, and I’m not trying to be. I wasn’t even talking about him! I’m not fucking stupid! It’s just a game – a _joke!_ Lighten the _fuck_ up!” On the last ‘fuck,’ he gave my head an extra shove against the stone.

            I thought he might have been about finished, but then he climbed on top of my body and continued his tirade at an even higher volume. “You are just unbelievable! I remember your birthday, I bring you so many great present, I spoil your rotten, and I give you a gift that any other human would kill for. And what do you do? You bitch about it! You didn’t even thank me for it! You didn’t even give me any appreciation for the thought and effort and danger and cost I went through to get it for you! All you do is complain that my efforts aren’t good enough!”

            He started pressing down on me even harder, forcing me to cry out in pain while he leaned closer to shout directly into my ear. “What does it take to get some appreciation out of you, you UNGRATEFUL LITTLE _WHORE?!_ ”

            Squinting between eyelids clenched with pain, I saw Yasha raising his free hand up high. It was up above his ear, trembling as it slowly balled into a fist. Then he brought it down onto the floor a few inches left of my face. The shockwave stung, and I felt a fissure run through the stone against my cheek. The damage repaired itself with a cacophony of pops and crackles after the demon lifted his hand away again. “Damn it!”

            I made no effort to move as Yasha stood up and walked away. I didn’t even move my eyes to follow him as he went over to retrieve his spear and stride to the edge of the realm. He threw one last, hateful scowl over his shoulder at me. “That’s the last time I ever try to celebrate your birthday, you little cunt! You ruin everything!” Then he leapt across the void between the floor and the wall and passed through the barrier.

            I pushed myself up onto my shoulders, anger reignited by his parting shot. “Yeah,” I said, eyes fixed on the point where he’d disappeared. I knew that the realm’s barrier cut off all sound, even to his ears. “That’s right. Run away. Blame me and run away just like the child you are. Everything’s my fault like always, you big baby! I’m just a spoilsport who doesn’t want to play the part of your perfect, simpering wife! Just blame me for everything so you don’t have to grow up and face the fact that you’re just an OVERGROWN MURDEROUS _BRAT!_ ”

            At some point during that rant, I’d pushed myself up onto my knees. The louder my voice grew, the faster the tears fell. Finally, it was too much.

            I made a dash for the futon, flung myself out upon it, and drew the blankets up in bunches against my face while I wept and wailed and writhed. A very strong, and supremely unfair, parallel was drawn in my mind between the way I looked now and the movements of a baby howling in its crib. But I couldn’t stop. I wanted my chest to rip itself asunder from the strength of my sobs.

            _I will be trapped here for over two hundred years._ At that thought, I rolled onto my back and started screaming, pressing my palms against my eyes and shredding my voice with maddening screeches until I lay exhausted and numb from hyperventilation.

            At last, hungry, sticky with sweat, feeling wretched and hopeless, I rolled onto my side and drew the sheets over my ugly, naked body. My thoughts continued to torment me when my eyes were closed.

            _This is all your fault. Not for the reasons Yasha said, though. It’s because you let your guard down. You gave him your trust. You let him get closer to your heart. YOU gave him that chance, and that’s how he was able to hurt you. You shouldn’t have wavered. You shouldn’t have opened yourself up to him even for a moment._

            Another clutch of tears rolled onto my pillow. “I just… just wanted to be happy for one day. I thought it would be safe to feel some joy despite his presence for just a little while.”

            _Well you thought wrong. Hopefully this will teach you your lesson. We can never trust him. You must never let your guard down again._

            I drew my knees up to my chest and held them in my arms. “God… Please… Have mercy. Kill me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it make me a sadist that I've been eagerly looking forward to this chapter? Maybe a smidgen... 
> 
> The events of Chapter Seven will be following directly after the conclusion of this chapter. I wish I could promise to get it out ASAP, but as it happens I'm taking a break this weekend. NOT a hiatus, just a weekend off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A naga snuck up on me… Managed to bite me before I ripped her skinny head off.”

Chapter 7

 

            Yasha made good on his declaration never to celebrate my birthday again. That turned out to be a bigger problem than I suspected at first. It meant that I lost my last concrete measure of time. Consequently, what I’m about to relate is the last event of whose chronology I can be certain. This took place the evening after my terrible birthday.

            After getting angry with me and storming out, Yasha did not return that night. I woke up the next morning, then tried to go back to sleep immediately. There was a deep cold in all my limbs, but my chest felt hot, and everywhere I felt sticky with clammy sweat. I was thirsty. I hadn’t eaten in a long time. But I tried to just stay asleep. I was like that for… a few hours, I guess. Every time I caught myself starting to think about something important, I just clenched my eyes shut and told myself to sleep.

            In a few lucid moments, I opened my eyes and looked at the bathtub, the cooking pot, and my chest of scrolls and books. All of them seemed repellent to me – and I couldn’t fill the bath right now even if I wanted to. Eventually, I crawled listlessly over to the food supplies just to find some water to stave off a headache, and then I wound up eating most of a raw cucumber as well, taking dispassionate bites and chewing mechanically while I stared off into space.

            On my way back to the futon, still wrapped in my blanket and the kimono I’d worn yesterday, I looked again at the chest of books and scrolls. Reading didn’t sound appealing, but… it was a distraction. My fingers closed around the scroll of Minemori’s poems, then immediately let it go for no reason I can say.

            I picked up the atlas instead and took it back to bed with me. After about two minutes, I had flipped every single page and glanced unseeingly over every island and continent in the book. Twice. It gave me no pleasure. So I pushed it away from me and rolled over. It seemed like the boredom would be easiest to endure if I just… did nothing.

            A significant time later, I was startled from sleep by a watery crash behind me. I rolled over, heart racing, to see Yasha on his knees, drenched from head to toe, his rucksack sopping wet. This was a pretty nasty shock. After the last… 10 months, I suppose, I had chanced several times to see the point on the barrier where Yasha made his entrance. It wasn’t always the same spot, but generally he would hop through at a slant from a spot across the void and a man’s height above floor level. The barrier would bulge inward, split like a seam in a membrane, and spread wide enough to admit Yasha and any burden he was carrying. He always jumped through like somebody doing a long jump, landing on his feet with an easy grin. Sometimes he’d trail a few droplets of water after him onto the floor, but more often he was perfectly dry.

            Today, he was drenched. A small trickle of water was only just coming to a stop from the ceiling even as I watched. Yasha was panting heavily, his head lowered. It was enough to shock me into speech.

            “What happened?” My voice was still hoarse from yesterday, but my sleepy, silent schedule had given it some time to heal.

            Yasha slowly lifted his head and fixed me with a smoldering glare. “Rice,” he growled.

            I blinked. “What?”

            “Rice!” he barked. My lips moved noiselessly, trying to form some connection between that word and the current circumstance. Yasha ran out of patience and bellowed, “ _Make rice!_ ”

            I scrabbled to my feet, trembling while I rushed over to the cook pot. Casting a glance over my shoulder, I saw streaks of blood running from a pair of thin, parallel cuts on Yasha’s bicep. The skin surrounding them was an ugly, dark purple that looked infected. I didn’t stare for long. The rice needed to be on the fire fast.

            While I cooked, Yasha finally got up from where he was kneeling and grabbed a towel to dry off his body and the puddle he’d made with his entrance. The whole time, his movements were sluggish and measured, as though afraid that he could fall at any moment. He was definitely in pain, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little happy to see it.

            Neither of us were in a hurry to speak while the rice was cooking. Yasha had brought home two bottles of sake on this particular trip. This was noteworthy because I’d never seen Yasha drink sake before. With care, he uncapped one of the bottles, held out his injured arm, and poured a generous slosh of sake over the wound. The pain made him wince and snarl and stamp his foot, puffing heavy breaths through his teeth.

            I winced as well out of instinct, but I didn’t feel bad for him. Not for an instant. _He deserves all of this and worse._

            “Are there any clean sheets?” Yasha asked, using another towel to dab at the sake and blood on his arm.

            “Yes. I think so.”

            “Tear up a few strips and bring them to me.”

            I blinked. “For bandages?”

            He threw a hateful glance over his shoulder. “Of course for bandages! Dumbass!”

            His treatment _did_ make me angry, but my anger was almost eclipsed by the cruel delight at seeing my tormentor in this kind of pain. I made sure not to let him see my smile as I retrieved the sheets and tore off four long strips. _I really hope it hurts, you bastard._

            While I was tearing bandages, Yasha doused his wound with another splash of sake, then downed the bottle’s remaining contents. From the way he grimaced, it must have been some pretty cheap sake. “Where are those bandages?” he called angrily as I was already walking toward him.

            “They’re right here,” I answered with a deliberately chipper tone.

            Yasha’s head whipped around as I was leaning over to hand him the bandages. “Get away from me!” he snapped.

            I straightened up and stumbled back a pace, clutching the bandages I’d torn to my chest. “I…” My heart was pounding from the shock.

            Yasha settled back as I retreated. “Just… set them there on the floor. Don’t touch me.”

            I fought not to openly gape at him. Those were three words I never imagined Yasha saying to me. But I left the bandages in the spot he’d indicated and went back over to the cook fire to attend to the rice. From where I sat, I watched him struggle to tie the bandages over the wound in three layers – one on top of the other. It felt good to see him struggling, but I reminded myself to be careful. He was bound to be volatile in this state. And going by the ugly, dark veins on his arm, I guessed that the wound was either poisoned or infected. If it was going to kill him, then I wanted to be there to see it.

            By degrees, the sake took effect, and Yasha shoulders began to untense. Apropos of nothing, he lifted his head up and said, “So you’re just not gonna ask me?” His tone wasn’t especially angry, but he wasn’t looking my way as he spoke.

            It might have been very satisfying to play dumb and say, ‘Ask what?’ with feigned innocence, but it would have been a pointless risk. I went with the safe response: “What happened to your arm?”

            He still didn’t turn toward me. “So you _do_ care?” he asked, tone thick with sarcasm.

            I took a deep breath and play-acted the submissive, attentive wife. “I didn’t want to pester you before you were ready to talk.”

            “Tch…” I let him draw out the surly pause as long as he wanted before continuing. “A naga snuck up on me… Managed to bite me before I ripped her skinny head off.”

            I had to think for a moment to call the term to mind. “Those are… the half-women, half-snake things, right?”

            He gave a patient sigh. “They’re not _all_ half-woman. This one was, though. And a real nasty bitch… Wish I had her to kill again…” He broke off suddenly and clutched his bandaged arm in pain. “Damn it!” Another pause rolled by.

            Finally, I manufactured as much concern as I could and asked, “Is it… bad?”

            “Tch. Like you even care.”

            That gave me a slight moment of panic. I _didn’t_ care if Yasha died… or rather, I _did_ care and hoped he would. But it could prove bad for me if he knew that, so I pouted the way he always thought was cute. “That’s so mean! Yasha-kun, you know I –”

            “Will you just shut up!” he hissed, finally looking at me directly. “Just stop talking already! This whole thing is _your_ fault in the first place!”

            Now I didn’t have to pretend to be outraged. “What?! How is this _my_ fault?”

            “It’s because of you I was even out there so late. If I wasn’t still so pissed at you, I wouldn’t have been distracted, and that bitch wouldn’t have gotten the jump on me!”

            Unbelievable. He even admitted that he was distracted by his own temper, and he blamed me anyway. “I’m not responsible for what you do when you’re angry,” I said hotly. “If you can’t even see through the haze of your own rage, then you shouldn’t be running around dangerous places where-”

            “I thought I told you to _shut up_!” Yasha cried, taking up his spear in his injured hand and swinging the point in my direction. I was nowhere near in reach of it, but it still cut off my words like a severed cord. I knew firsthand how quickly Yasha could close this distance. “I’m in enough pain as it is without you scolding me. Just keep your mouth shut and make dinner.”

            I took a deep breath, seething. Then I reminded myself that if a naga had bitten him, he was likely poisoned, and I just had to bide my time. Just wait… wait… wait…

            I started pulling out some dry seaweed and other things to go with dinner. I even considered pulling out the last of Yasha’s bacon.

            Bacon was the latest strategy in Yasha’s campaign to make me enjoy the taste of flesh. He told me it was among his favorite styles of cooked flesh. He told me it was the strongest source of umami one could find. He _assured_ me it was considered a delicacy by millions, and that noblemen around the world considered it their privilege to enjoy it at least once a week. Despite this, it sounded obscene.

            Bacon was made from the fattest flesh stripped off the back of a wild or domestic boar, left to marinade for a few days in a vat with water, vinegar, sugar, a number of sweet spices, and fire-scored wood chips of cherry and maple. Once it was deemed ready and sliced to Yasha’s liking, he laid the pink, floppy strips of flesh in an unprepared iron skilled that was hot over the cook fire. The fat from the boar’s flesh then began to pop and crackle as it bled from the muscle. Gradually, the strips of flesh turned from pink to red. When pulled out of the skilled, they’d turned hard and brittle like tree bark. I’ll admit that the color and sound were slightly stimulating to the appetite, but the smell…

            _The smell…_

            The smell was a vulgar grotesquerie matched only by the touch. The bacon was absolutely drenched in liquid fat. It stained everything. It stained my fingers, and it spread from my fingers to my clothes and my paper. I could taste it on Yasha’s lips for the rest of the day whenever he kissed me. It stained the rice and the lip of my teacup. It was the greasiest thing I’d ever eaten. Yasha told me I wouldn’t be allowed to leave the table until I’d eaten three slices of the stuff, but I couldn’t even finish the second piece before I had to rush to the edge of the floor and vomit out into the void. I half expected to see the boar’s blood start coming out of my mouth, but thankfully not. Yasha was very unhappy and called me a drama queen, but he didn’t force me to eat any more.

            In the week or so since, I finally felt less polluted. Yasha had continued to snack on it for some time since, and there was now very little remaining. I decided to risk opening my mouth to ask him, “Do you want the last of the bacon with dinner?”

            He didn’t answer right away. “No. You can eat whatever you want, but just rice for me.” That was _very_ strange, but I offered no comment.

            When the rice was ready, Yasha said, “Take a bowl for yourself, then bring me the pot.” Another strange request for which I offered no comment. I set the pot down on the floor where Yasha had pointed and laid his chopsticks on the rim before going back to eat my portion. When I looked back, though, Yasha had lain his chopsticks on the floor and was eating straight out of the pot with his hand, stopping only to take long gulps from the second bottle of sake.

            I had to turn my back toward him to be able to finish eating.

            An uncomfortable silence pervaded as we each finished our meal. Yasha might have felt somewhat better, or he might just have been settling into a stupor. Tentatively I asked, “Is it time for a bath now?”

            His shoulders stiffened and he didn’t look at me. “Not tonight…”

            Well… That was a mixed blessing. Not that I wanted to be any nearer to him in this state, but this _would_ be my second night without one. Funny how I’d gotten so used to nightly baths… Instead, I cleaned up from dinner and started to get ready for bed.

            Just when I was about to crawl onto the futon, Yasha called out, “Wait!” I stopped stock-still as he came over and grabbed a blanket and one of the pillows from the bed. “I’m likely to toss and turn a lot tonight. I’ll sleep separately.”

            Ought I to have been suspicious? Maybe. But… I guess I just felt glad that I was having some good luck at last. Yasha didn’t want to touch me, bathe with me, or _sleep_ with me. It still wasn’t my fault that Yasha had gotten bitten, of course, but… maybe if I woke up to find him dead in the morning, I’d accept the credit for it anyway.

            Yasha dragged his pillow and pillow behind the partition, and silence ensued but for an occasional grunt as he shifted into a more comfortable position. He’d taken the thicker of the blankets, but I wasn’t bothered in the least. Especially not when I knew Yasha would be sleeping on the floor. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I went to bed with a smile on my lips. I had a hard time getting to sleep, owing to Yasha’s constant moans and groans of pain, but I didn’t mind. My excitement probably would have kept me up anyway.

 

            _This could be it! This could be it, everyone! This will even make up for yesterday, won’t it?_

           

****

 

            In the middle of the night, my sleep was disturbed. I heard the sound of heavy breathing and felt a pair of eyes boring into me.

            “Beautiful… sweet… my perfect…” I opened my eyes by the merest degree and saw Yasha crouching over me. He was straddling my body without resting his weight on me. “He’s… perfect… more than I deserve…” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it, his breath faltering and tremulous. My heart started beating faster. I was scared. This was creepy.

            Yasha must have heard it. I felt him shift above and his fingers touching my shoulder through the blanket. “Hiro-chan?... Oh, I’m sorry… I didn’t… didn’t mean to wake you…”

            With it being no use pretending to be asleep now, I opened my eyes. Yasha looked… horrible. Ghastly. His skin was livid red around the chest and arms, but his face was ashen pale and shone with sweat. His chest heaved unsteadily in rhythm with his ragged breathing. His eyes appeared dull and glassy, unfocused even as he stared directly at me.

            As my eyes opened fully, I saw a spark brightening in Yasha’s cold, blue eyes. His jaw hung open slightly. “Wow,” he breathed. “Your eyes… I forgot…” He brushed his thumb along my cheek. I gasped as every muscle in my body tensed. It was like the other times Yasha had used his power to excite my nerves, yet…. Where usually it had an electric sensation, this was more like a kind of heat. It ran through my skin and started building in my neck. “I’ve been avoiding your eyes all day and… I forgot how beautiful your eyes became… Like a field of coral… Like a kelp forest in the glow before a storm…”

            I tried to keep still, but the heat building inside me was becoming unbearable. It was hard to keep still. This was dangerous. “Yasha-kun…”

            His eyes flared brighter. The glassy look diminished for a moment, then returned. He carried on speaking as though he hadn’t heard me. “So beautiful… so perfect… you’re…” He faltered, hand sliding from my lips to caress my neck. I held back a moan as the heat spread down my shoulders and made my nerves writhe. “But you’re… so fragile… so precious… helpless… What’s going to happen to you if…” His thought hung in the air, easy to be read. I was afraid to speak again, but I was also afraid of the fire spreading beneath my skin.

            Weakly, I lifted my hand and pressed it to Yasha’s shoulder. “Yasha-kun… please…” At first, my fingers were curled up, and it was with my knuckles that I pushed on his shoulder. But by the time I’d finished speaking, I found that my fingers had uncurled, and it was unclear whether I was pushing or gripping him. The fire spread down my arm through my palm.

            His eyes widened. He seemed to tremble for a moment while we stared at each other. Slowly, a little of the fragility in his expression began to fade. He drew the blankets out from between us, fixing me with his determined stare as he tossed them aside. “Don’t worry, Hiro-chan… I’m not going anywhere…” He lowered his body upon me, and a moan seeped out of my chest. “This won’t be the end of me… I’m gonna be right here to take care of my beautiful wife.”

            I could feel his member grinding into mine. I was hard… _aching_ hard. All this time, I had become so good at ignoring my erections – at just letting Yasha do what he wanted to me until I came and not thinking about it in the meantime. But now, it was impossible. It _demanded_ my attention. Then he kissed me, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. The tongue in my mouth filled me to the seams with nervous energy. I braced every muscle in my limbs against the urge to throw my arms around my husband.

            I felt Yasha’s hands tugging my legs apart, but it felt like my own muscles that actually moved. When his fingers hoisted at my hips, my muscles contracted against my will to pull my hips higher. When his cock pushed itself into my unresisting hole… That was the moment when I finally broke.

            His dick felt scalding hot. It hurt like a bitch as it entered, but it wasn’t from the entry itself. It was just… _hot_. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, gripped his hips with my thighs, and I started to push against his tongue with kisses of my own. It helped. I started to grind my hips back against him, and I felt a great surge of relief. Yasha started to rock back and forth, sliding his cock through my body, and that felt _glorious_! Like finally scratching the worst, most persistent itch of my life.

            But like scratching a persistent itch, it felt worse almost the instant he began to slow down. I needed more.

            I trailed my fingers through the demon’s violet locks, sucked at his lower lip, pushed my body up against his so that my cock ground into his abs. I clenched as tight as I could squeeze around the man’s prick, and it was like pure bliss radiating out from my core. Our lips parted, we both moaned in pleasurable agony, and then we came back for an even deeper kiss while Yasha’s hips started rolling with energetic purpose.

            Suddenly, I thought of my parents. Their faces just drifted into my head as I was willfully kissing their killer and writhing with pleasure. I pushed the vision aside. _Look away… Please look away…_ To even think of them in this moment – in this one mutual act – felt truly indecent. _Don’t look at this… I’m sorry, but this is too much to bear. Please, forgive me this moment of weakness and look away._

            As my desperation to be distracted grew, so too did the heat within my flesh. I tugged against Yasha’s shoulder, giving him better access to me, and broke the kiss to whine ‘more’ into his ear. Even I shuddered at the unintentional, sultry husk of my voice.

            This time, instead of reconnecting the kiss, Yasha growled and redoubled his speed, lifting my hips higher so that his cock drove in at an angle.

            “Yes!” I groaned, leaning back against the mat. Thought fell out of my head like peaches from a bough and left my mind clear of all but that scalding ecstasy. Yasha was giving me what I needed. My cock, though untouched, was drooling a constant flow of pre across my belly, glistening brightly whenever he pushed in to the hilt and made my abdomen bulge.

            I should have been satisfied then to let my husband finish and go back to bed. But… I … I don’t have any excuse for what I did. I got greedy. That’s all I can say of it. This, of all things, was my fault. I don’t forgive myself.

            I leaned up, secured my arms around Yasha’s back, and bit into his shoulder. The gasp this elicited from the demon was no simple, breathy inhalation, but a full, sucking gulp of air. I felt his nails digging into my hips in reply. “Harder,” he begged with a harsh burst of air. I obliged, digging my teeth in harder, shoving my tongue against his skin. Yasha growled and repeated, “Harder!” now with a hint of pleading in his voice.

            My mouth briefly detached from his shoulder as I adjusted my grip, chose a spot closer to the base of his neck, and clenched my jaws together savagely until I tasted blood in my teeth. Yasha screamed. He sank one claw into my hair, raked the other down my back, and howled like an animal while our sweaty bodies ground together and he began to disgorge his seed deep into my bowels. If it felt like I was burning before, Yasha’s load made me feel as if my stomach had been set ablaze. I felt insane. Without loosening my grip on his shoulder, I started screaming and wailing through a mouthful of skin, spraying droplets of blood from the edges of my lips.

            It felt _glorious_! Hardly a second after Yasha, I began spraying my own seed between our abs, and I felt the liquid spreading between our skin, turning our chests slippery so we could press even closer. It must have taken at least ten seconds before I came down from my climax. Maybe longer. When I came to my senses, Yasha was panting just as hard as I was, as though we’d lasted the same length of time for once in our lives.

            For a while, I let go of his shoulder, and we stared into each other’s eyes, breathing, recuperating. But the _need_ came back to me before I was even aware of it. The load I’d spilled – and the one Yasha put inside me – they weren’t enough. My nerves were smoldering, compelling me to grind against the man’s body again. With surprisingly little force, I pushed against Yasha and flipped him onto his back. Then I crawled astride his hips and began to rock back and forth upon him, clenching my hole with each slide forward so that my body squeezed and pulled at his member. With a shudder of satisfaction, I actually heard the demon’s voice crack. His body shuddered, and he twitched to readiness inside me.

            “Again!” I husked, thrusting my hips back and giving his shoulders a shake.

            “Hiro-chan…” he moaned, shifting beneath me as if he meant to roll his hips but couldn’t quite summon the energy.

            “More!” I demanded, flexing in ways that my body would usually only do involuntarily. Beneath my fingers, I could feel his skin and muscles thrumming with the same heat that spurred me on.

            “I…” He couldn’t speak for a moment, squirming and whimpering as I massaged his cock with the flexing of my abdomen. “I’m sorry, babe… I don’t think I have the energy to…”

            “Bullshit!” I barked in a sudden access of anger. This was unprecedented and intolerable. I grabbed one of his wrists and pressed his palm to my belly where the tip of his member could be felt bulging beneath my skin. “You feel this?” I glared into his eyes while I spoke. “When have you _ever_ left my belly so empty? When has _my_ fatigue ever spared me from getting fucked senseless? For that matter, when has _your_ fatigue ever slacked your appetite for sex?” I lifted my hips a little, then drove them down to make him groan. “Now be a man! Fuck me!” I worked my hips into a rhythm, feeling it get easier as his dick fully stiffened and remained rigid with every sliding roll of my hips. The wonderful, blazing heat spread almost up to my throat. “FUCK ME!”

            Seemingly against his will, Yasha rested his hands upon my thighs and started to thrust up into my body. I had to do most of the work, but I refused to let my husband slack off. Not now when I needed it so bad. I gripped him by the wrists and bent backward, and the hot pleasure almost drove me insane as our hips worked in unison to make me bounce along his shaft. It only took a few minutes before we both came again. My whole body burnt with ecstasy, and Yasha’s mouth was wide open and screaming as my seed shot across his face. He couldn’t help but take a great mouthful of it, even as I felt my belly grow heavier with seed.

            By the end, Yasha was doubly tired, but I felt the fire within me build even higher and hotter. I didn’t wait a second for him to recover before bending low, pressing myself chest-to-chest upon him, and working my hips into a rolling blur. Yasha started thrashing beneath me, screaming and trying to knock me off of him, but I pinned his shoulders in place.

            “Stop! Hiro-chan, please!” Yasha pleaded as tears began to stream from his eyes. “I j-just came! My dick’s so sensitive! Please!”

            “I don’t care.” Then I shut him up by sealing my lips around his mouth and forcing him into a kiss. During that kiss, I bit at his lower lip and made him sob. That was heady power. Almost as much as when, hardly two minutes later, I made the demon cum yet again. This load was only big enough to fill a teacup, which was pathetic by his standards, and not nearly enough to satisfy me. So I didn’t waste time giving him a chance to rest, but just kept going, milking his cock until he was a sobbing, quivering mess beneath me. If I’d been thinking coherently at the time, I’d have said that I was _trying_ to drive him completely insane.

            The only relief Yasha got was when, at some point after shooting his fifth load inside of me, his dick managed to slip out by mistake. But his respite was short-lived. I quickly took one of his nipples into my mouth, rubbing my lips around it, teasing the nub with my tongue just as he’d done to me countless times. He screamed and begged me to stop, but I was merciless. I stimulated the demon’s nipples until his cock was fully hard again, then rolled onto my back with Yasha on top and slid him back inside, sighing as the warm, familiar girth filled up my belly.

            He had recovered slightly from the hyper-sensitive mess he’d been a minute before, but his face still glinted with tears and perspiration. He was struggling just to keep his eyes open.

            “Stay awake!” I growled, trapping his hips between my clenched thighs. “We’re not finished yet.”

            “Hiro-chan…” He shuddered and took a gulp of air. “I’m so… so tired… I can’t…”

            “No!” I pulled his head close and bit his upper ear roughly. He groaned and squirmed like it hurt, but I felt the potent throb of his cock inside my belly that showed me he enjoyed it. With my teeth still holding onto his ear I muttered, “One more time… You’re gonna fuck me once more, and this time you’re not gonna make me do all the work, or we’ll do it again.”

            He whimpered, but there was no trace of defiance in his tone, nor in his expression when I let go of his ear and leaned back to let Yasha work up a rhythm. The fatigue was apparent in the labored thrust of his hips and the way his ragged, panting breaths flowed across my breastbone. All the while I rolled my hips counter to his thrusts, watching the rocking bulge in my abdomen with satisfaction. The raging bonfire within me was flickering wildly, and I could feel my own weariness finally starting to catch up with me. I had to pull Yasha into another fiery, tongue-filled kiss just to keep my mind focused on the present moment.

            It was… a good kiss. Perhaps it started to wake Yasha up again, or perhaps he’d simply heeded my threat. Either way he started to kiss me like he meant it again. Our tongues wrestled, our skin rubbed together, and he even lifted my thighs up higher to thrust his cock in at a really wonderful angle. Between my delighted moans and the length of that truly stifling kiss, it’s hardly surprising that I finally fainted some seconds into our final orgasm that evening.

 

            I woke up the next morning to find, to my disappointment, that neither of us were dead.

            I knew I wasn’t dead because I hurt in every single fiber and crevice of my body, my stomach was debating whether it wanted to escape my body by crawling out my throat or bursting through my abdomen, my eyes felt somehow as dry as prunes and swollen to popping at the same time, every joint in my body felt as if they had been pulled apart and then stitched back together while I was sleeping, and I would much rather have been dead than alive and experiencing this agony.

            I knew Yasha was alive because he was the bastard who’d woken me up. He was shaking my shoulder and calling my name, his voice soft but grating, with a distinct undertone of urgency. “Hiro-chan! Hiro-chan! C’mon, say something Hiro-chan. Just look at me, at least! Hiro-chan!” Groggily, I pushed a strangled groan of displeasure through my parched lips and opened one eye to peer at my tormentor.

            Yasha was looking to be in irritatingly fit condition. He’d washed his face and hair and done his makeup, and he looked as healthy as he ever did. The red marks on his shoulder, which I was too tired to give my full attention, gave the only hint of last night’s trial. By the time his face swam into focus, his anxious tone had melted, and he was smiling at me with gentle sympathy.

            “Hey there, Hiro-chan. Good to see you… god, your eyes are as pretty as ever…” I moaned in complaint and tried to roll away, but my muscles didn’t want to cooperate. I noticed suddenly that, along with everything else, I was soaked with sweat. Yasha rested a cool hand on my cheek to steady me. “Hey, hey! It’s okay, you don’t have to get up or do anything. I just want you to drink this.”

            The ‘this’ he indicated was gourd filled with water, and he carefully lifted my head and shoulders under one arm to let me drink from it. The first two sips made me feel like my head would break in half, but Yasha told me I had to take two more big gulps before he’d let me go. The water turned my stomach, but I focused all the energy I could spare on not letting myself get sick. Puking would have multiplied every other symptom beyond endurance.

            Steadily, Yasha let me back down on the futon and set the gourd on the floor nearby. “You must have gotten quite a dose of it last night. You’re gonna feel pretty cruddy today, but it looks like you got through the worst of it in your sleep.” I had no idea what he was talking about. I was in too much pain to concentrate, and I just wanted to go back to sleep. He was stroking my forehead in a way that wasn’t totally intolerable. “Damn… last night you were…” I felt a shudder run through him as he breathed, “ _incredible_!”

            He leaned in and kissed me on the lips, and I could feel by the tension in his body that he longed to do more, but he managed to restrain himself. “I never would have guessed you had that in you, Hiro-chan. I really underestimated you. What a lucky guy I am to have a bride with such fire!” He kissed me again, a little more amorously this time, but stopped at my groaned objection. My eyes were now determinedly closed.

            “Alright, alright!” he conceded with laughter thick in his voice. “I’ll leave you to rest up now. You have water to drink, and there’s a pair of onigiri there on the table if you wake up feeling hungry. I’m gonna get us some tasty things for dinner; mussels, crabs, oysters – all the best stuff! It’ll help you feel much better, I bet.” He got up and retrieved his spear, but hesitated at the edge of the realm. With my eyes opened to slits, I saw him turn to blow me a kiss and mouth the words ‘I love you’ before leaping through the barrier. I felt instant relief on his departure and was asleep inside of a minute.

 

            Though pained and groggy enough to stay asleep for days, I woke up just a few hours later. I suppose I’d gotten all the sleep my body could take in one go. I felt marginally better, in that I was now merely miserable as opposed to longing for immediate death. I was still weak and sore, but my headache had gotten better, and I wasn’t worried about my eyes liquifying if I opened them too wide.

            With slow, deliberate movements, I rolled toward the water gourd, pushed my elbow under me to lift myself as little as necessary, and took a few slow, shallow sips. My empty stomach became a little anxious, but the rest of my body sighed with relief. Finally, I was showing some improvement. As I lay back down, my mind finally felt clear enough to start processing the previous day’s events.

            Yasha was still alive… He’d been poisoned yesterday and looked like death, and now he was back to his old self. “Damn,” I muttered to myself. It felt like some kind of elaborate, cosmic prank. Especially now that I was in even worse shape than he was. But… no, I needed to back up and focus. Yasha had been in _terrible_ shape. He’d looked like death. And when he woke me up in the night, he was barely holding it together. He’d been delirious. Even if he _did_ survive, he couldn’t have made such a quick recovery overnight.

            My brain made sluggish work of reassembling the night’s events. It was only by an act of will that I unspooled them. Yasha had looked so forlorn and fearful when he touched my face, and I felt that hot tingling in my body. In that fevered state, his aura had had a different effect on me than usual. I remembered, with a mixture of embarrassment and tepid guilt, how I’d gotten too feverishly horny and started to kiss Yasha back. I remembered how hot and aggressive I’d felt, and how needy and desperate he became. I remembered with satisfaction how I’d _finally_ managed to inflict some pain on that bastard – that had certainly been a theme toward the end. Oh how pleased my family would be, I thought, to know how the tables had turned. To hear how I made the bastard plead and whimper. I made that killer my bitch! I still remembered his voice when I sank my teeth into his shoulder and tasted… his… blood…

            Up till now, my eyelids had been gradually sinking shut. Now they were wide open, my mind was lighting up like fireworks, and a sensation of icy cold seeped through my belly.

            I had taken a knife to his neck without him even waking up. I had bit _his dick_ with all my strength and he’d barely felt it. But last night, my teeth alone were enough to make him bleed. What’s more, I remembered how easy it had been to overpower him with my strength. For him to be so weak, his aura grown so dim that I could make him bleed, he must really have been on death’s doorstep. He should have died.

            My breath stopped as an even colder realization swept through me. _Oh god! I could have killed him! I could have killed him!_ I gripped my head and groaned, knees curling to my chest. I was a fool. I was an oblivious fool, and I’d let my chance for vengeance slip through my fingers. Yasha’s life had been in my hands…

            _It’s not my fault,_ I prayed desperately to my parents. _I didn’t know! I thought he was going to die anyway. He was so close to death. He shouldn’t have survived. I don’t know how he…_

            Memories from even earlier in the night began to pour in, and now I was helpless to stop the working of my mind as it mercilessly slid the pieces into place. After he first got back, Yasha hadn’t touched me. He’d shouted at me when I came near him, and he wouldn’t touch me, or even anything I was holding. I’d thought nothing of it at the time, except that Yasha was being his characteristically childish and vindictive self. He’d even slept on the other side of the realm.

            But when he touched me in his fevered delirium, it had felt different than normal. I thought it was just his aura being warped by his fever, but that couldn’t be. How could his aura have such a powerful effect on my psyche if it wasn’t even strong enough to protect him from my teeth?

            The poison… The naga that had bitten him was a spirit. So it’s poison was likewise….

            “No…”

            When we touched, and I’d felt that terrible heat filling my body, what if my spirit was leeching the poison out of him? He’d avoided my touch, refused to even bathe with me, all because he knew it could happen and didn’t want to hurt me.

            “No…”

            Then, when his desperate and hopeless expression became determined, I’d joined him in his passionate sex, and I’d leeched more and more of the naga’s venom from him until we reached an equilibrium.

            “No, no, no!” I flipped onto my belly, gripping the sheets and grinding my cheek into the pillow with my eyes wide and staring.

            We’d fucked. We fucked and rutted like wild animals. Even when he was panting and sobbing with exhaustion, I pushed him to keep going until we were both spent, and we’d sweated the worst of the poison out.

            “NO!”

            I had saved his life.

            “AAAAAAGH! -” In my mind’s eye, I imagined myself screaming so loud that the stone floor beneath me cracked. I envisioned losing my sanity and running about the realm, smashing everything until I collapsed bloody and gibbering among the wreckage. But that notion was sabotaged at the outset. I pushed myself up onto my hands, shrieking madly, but my body was too sick and weak; within seconds, my screams gave way under a burst of vertigo. A blanket of darkness closed over my vision as my arms gave out beneath me. I fainted so quickly and so completely that I don’t even remember the thud as my body hit the futon again.

            I just remember opening my eyes to find my heart racing, my stomach churning, and the horror of my mistake staring me in the face. I gripped my head, trembling and hyperventilating. “Mother… Father…”

            I had told them to turn away… I had begged them to look away while I rutted with their killer and unwittingly pulled him back from the brink of death. Now, when I tried to call their faces to mind, all I could envision was their backs. I had spurned my chance to avenge them, and then I betrayed them by saving the life of their killer. Now their backs were turned to me. How could they ever forgive me for this? I was unworthy to be called their son…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh! Only two chapters left in this book! Yeeeeeesh! <3 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed seeing a power-bottom Hiroshi. Even if it didn't ultimately help matters, at least it was a triumph of sorts in the moment.   
> Still, I was really busy while working on that scene and wasn't able to give it as much attention as I wanted, by and large. I can't help but think that the scene whizzes by too abruptly. Still, I can always fix that in post. 
> 
> Oh yes, and this weekend I just bought a beautiful new notebook for when I start on Book 3! I'll upload a picture to my twitter. 
> 
> Thanks as always for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasha-kun... I think I might be sick.

Chapter 8

 

            There was hardly enough light to see until I stumbled out onto the open plain. It was a jarring shift of surroundings after wandering through the woods for so long, but more jarring still was what – or rather _who_ – I saw standing there. My parents, my brothers, my sister, and our closest neighbors were all standing around on the grass talking to each other with casual expectance, like they were waiting for the fireworks to start at a festival. Their faces were all lit up in the dark as though from lamp light, but there were neither lamps nor a bonfire. Judging by the color of the sky, it was mere minutes after sunset.

            My breath caught. My heart pounded joyously. I believed what I was seeing without question. “Mom! Dad! Imouto-san!” I cried, running into the illuminated ring of the plain. They all looked up in surprise. Then their eyes widened with a look of terror that brought me up short.

            The bottom dropped out of my stomach as I heard the frightened gasps ringing out from all the assembled. “G… guys?” I said, faltering.

            They all cringed at the sound of my voice. My father positioned himself between me and my brothers. My blood ran cold. My mother reached out and wrapped her arms around my little sister’s shoulders and started pulling her back. She’d been the closest to me at the start, and the look in her eyes was almost more akin to amazement than fear. She was the only one not meeting my eyes – instead staring down at my side.

            “Blood…” she said softly but distinctly, her tone making it half-way a question.

            Blinking dazedly, I followed the direction of her gaze and looked down at my left hand. I lifted it up to look at it. I turned it over this way and that. I flexed the fingers.

            It was soaked in blood.

            My hand was bleeding.

            No… No, it wasn’t bleeding. This was somebody else’s blood… But…

            No wait, it _was_ bleeding! There was a single cut around the knuckle of my pinky-finger. It was gushing blood. It dripped down from the wound in a single, thin, unbroken trickle.

            I looked down, following the trickle of blood. As I tracked it with my eyes, the stream bent like a strand of yarn before it could touch the ground and went trailing off behind me. The moment I began to wonder what was making it do that, the blood went taught like a real string and jerked me violently about.

            The scene toward which I spun was nearly identical to the one I’d been facing. All the people who’d been in front of me a moment ago were in front of me now, and in roughly the same arrangement. But now they were lying about the ground dead, drenched in their own blood. Most had their faces to the ground, but my mother lay face up. Her cheek and brow were scorched and blackened, her dead eyes staring into the night. Her arms were still loosely wrapped around the body of my little sister.

            Between them and me, there stood Yasha. Blood dripped from his grinning lips. The string of blood trailed from my left hand to his own, clenched into a tight fist around his end of the string. His eyes were bright and brimming over with madness, and his teeth appeared abnormally sharp. “C’mere, my sweet Hiro-chan,” he said with playful menace. Then he gripped the string with both hands and pulled it hard. I went stumbling toward him, and his arms opened to catch me. I was too terrified even to cry out.

            As he caught me in his arms, he hooked the smallest finger of his left hand around mine, holding them up to show the string of blood that connected them. I tried to pull back, but my muscles could barely move, and his grip was like iron.

            “See, Hiro-chan?” he said, lifting our pinky fingers up between our lips. “You and I were destined to be together. We’re soulmates. You don’t need anybody but me.” With every word, viscous trickles of blood spilled out from the corners of his lips, gushing between his pointed teeth. Then he pulled me into a kiss and forced his tongue into my mouth. I thrashed and wept, feeling like I was suffocating until I finally managed to break free from the kiss. Blood ran down my chin and chest as I screamed and sobbed, but the demon’s arms only grew tighter.

            “… ro-chan. Hiro-chan!” Yasha’s voice suddenly sounded at once very loud and very far away. The scene around me started to melt and fade like mist. There was no blood. No bodies. Yasha was still there, but he wasn’t squeezing me with grinning malice; he was holding me gently but firmly, calling my name to wake me.

            “It’s okay, Hiro-chan. It’s okay. You’re safe. It was just a bad dream. You’re safe. Nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

            By degrees, I began to float up out of my panic. I saw Yasha looking at me with worried eyes, felt his hands stroking my back and my hips. I realized that tears were coursing down my face, and it didn’t take long for me to go from screaming to weeping. I pushed my face into his chest so I wouldn’t have to look at him, and Yasha stroked the back of my head lovingly.

            “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you.” He delicately kissed the top of my head. “It was just a dream. You’re safe now. I’m here. It’s okay.”

            I braced my hands against his chest, but I wasn’t trying to push him away. I just… hated everything. I hated him. I hated this place. I hated that I was crying, and that Yasha was here to see it. I hated that I couldn’t make myself stop crying, even now that I was awake. And… I hated myself.

            I hated myself for being too weak to push Yasha away. For being so weak that I would accept consolation even from him.

            I hated him. He _was_ the monster in my dreams. He was responsible for all of this. No promise of safety would ever mean anything to me so long as he still lived.

            I ought to have told him that. I ought to have refused his comfort. At the very least, I ought to have pulled back into my mind and ignored him. But I couldn’t. As horrible as it felt to cry in the arms of that… _murderer_ … it was still less than the pain of crying all to myself in the dark. And I hated myself for that.

            I hated both of us for that.

 

*****

 

            My mental state deteriorated quickly following Yasha’s recovery from the naga bite. I had continued my work copying the old books and scrolls onto fresh paper, and there were only a few left. At one point, I had copied out the first length of a scroll and was quietly praising myself on what a good emulation I’d done of the original handwriting. It was only when I started unrolling the second length that I realized it was actually a scroll I’d already copied – with my own handwriting. I thought I was losing my mind.

            Thankfully, Yasha had taken totally the wrong idea from that night. He was convinced now that I was truly, madly in love with him, and it took less effort than usual to sate his childish appetite for constant validation.  Ironically, he also began to respect me more. His sex drive was as strong now as it had been in the first weeks of our marriage, but he no longer went out of his way to humiliate me during sex. At least… not often.

            I do recall one day when Yasha seemed to be in heat, and he didn’t head out on his usual excursion. I woke up with my husband’s cock already inside of me and his fingers massaging my dick. I could already see on his face that he was just waiting for me to cum first before he unleashed his first load inside of me, and I obligingly offered no resistance to his ministrations. I came inside a few minutes, then sighed with relief as I felt the heat of his seed flooding my innards and waited for him to come to a stop.

            But he never did. He just scooped me up into his arms, wrapped my legs around his waist, and continued fucking me where he sat on the floor, not slowing for an instant. It was as though he still had some traces of the naga’s venom in his system. This went on for another five rounds before his dick slackened and he finally let me rest.

            By noon my belly was bulging with his seed. Yasha had to take lunch alone because I was too stuffed to take even a bite of seaweed. Lying on the futon, as bloated and uncomfortable as I’d been on our first night, I prayed that he would finally be finished with me. Then I looked over at the demon as he was eating and saw that his cock had risen yet again. It kept swaying while he moved, smearing drops of pre against his abs. And throughout his meal, he kept giving me devilish leers, his eyes saying, “ _Oh just you wait, Hiro-chan, I’ll be right back in a moment. You and I are_ far _from finished today_.”

            He seemed to have his arousal control, though, at least for the moment as he returned and took his seat beside me. His hand reached out and rubbed at my overfull belly. “What a pretty wife you look when your tummy’s all big and round like this… Like you’re ready to give life to my firstborn.”

            Flushed with embarrassment and too bloated to want to speak, I just clicked my tongue and refused to meet his eye.

            But Yasha wasn’t ready to end the joke there. “You must feel lucky, Hiro-chan, having the seed of an impressive man like me in your womb. We’ll have such beautiful children…” He slid his hand up to my face and brushed his thumb against my cheek. “I hope our first son has your eyes.”

            It was his use of the future tense that got me to reply. “Stop… That’s not even funny.”

            Yasha quirked a brow. “You think I’m joking?”

            “Obviously,” I said wearily, managing with difficulty to roll myself onto my side. “I don’t actually _have_ a womb, so I can’t get pregnant.”

            “I can fix that.”

            I froze. Yasha’s voice hadn’t had a trace of mirth or irony to it. I rolled back to look him in the eye, and the demon’s smile was perfectly level and deadpan. My thoughts raced while the silence between us lingered. He couldn’t really do that, could he? Well… He had found the Elixir of Life, extended my lifespan by 200 years, and even stopped me from aging. If he could do that, then it was certainly foolish to assume he _couldn’t_ make a man pregnant.

            But if so, and if it’s something he really wanted, then why wait till now? Why didn’t he do it sooner? It would have been so easy for him to slip me a potion while I was distracted, or some other trick like he’d done on my birthday.

            While I was thinking this, Yasha reached out and slid his palm over the front of my belly. He rubbed it softly, delicately… and then pressed it with soft pressure. A possessive gleam sprang into his eyes. My breath caught. Then all of a sudden, he started laughing uncontrollably, rolling onto his back and cackling with delight. I felt my face go red.

            “Hiro-chan, you gullible little idiot!” he boomed when he was able to find his breath. “Of course guys can’t get pregnant. There isn’t a spell in the world that will give you a fertile, childbearing womb.”

            My blood boiled. Bad enough he should play such a trick on me, without also mocking my ignorance of a notion that seemed so plausible, given the circumstances. Unable to express my anger coherently, I aimed a stomping kick that landed ineffectually in his abs and barked, “Ass!”

            With a lecherous smirk, Yasha moved my leg to the side and leaned in close to me. “But don’t worry, Hiro-chan. We live in a world of magic, and strange miracles do sometimes come true. Plus…” He started to rub his throbbing phallus up against my dick, showing off how big it was. “Your husband is so energetic and virile. If _any_ man can get you pregnant, it’s me.” Steadily, he moved his hips so the head of his dick slid down towards my anus. “We’ll just have to keep trying…” He leaned over me and planted a kiss on my forehead. “… and trying…” He kissed me again, sliding his tongue through my lips even as the head of his member slipped into me. “… and trying.” He pushed his hips all the way to mine, then rubbed my swollen belly while his other hand pinned me to the bed for another round.

 

            But such instances were the exception. Most days were hardly worthy of remark. Our routine was pretty fixed: Breakfast, sex, hair and makeup, Yasha leaves, reading, pray to family, meditate, Yasha returns, dinner, conversation, sex, bath, bed. The days that broke from that rhythm were few and far between.

            Thanks to that monotony, my sense of time became so skewed that at times it seemed like I was _watching_ as my skin grew paler and my hair got longer. It felt as though at least once a week, I would look at one of the locks hanging over my shoulder, and it would have grown half an inch since the last time I looked at it. Meanwhile, everywhere else on my body, my hair had fallen out.

            It was either too quick or too gradual to register. I just remember that one day, I looked down and it was gone. There was none on my chest, nor the backs of my arms, nor my legs, nor even around my crotch. I tugged at a lock trailing from my head, but found it firmly rooted. I couldn’t think what it meant.

            “Everything okay, darling?” Yasha asked from behind me. We were in the bath at the time, and he’d been scrubbing my back for me. I suppose it’s natural he would have sensed my disquiet.

            “I… I’m not sure,” I confessed. Discreetly, I looked around at the water in the tub. There was no trace of any loose hair floating around. “I think I might be sick.”

            Yasha’s hands slowed, and I felt him lean in closer. One of his hands touched my forehead. “You seem alright to me. Why do you think you’re sick?”

            I pulled my legs up to my chest, staring at my bare, porcelain knees. “I’ve lost… all the hair on my body below my… neck…” I reached a hand up to feel at my chin, my cheeks, and my upper lip. At 19 I still hadn’t been able to grow a full beard, but I was accustomed at least to feeling some soft down around my lips and jawline. Now it was all completely smooth. “Actually… I’ve lost it everywhere below my nose.”

            Yasha turned my chin one way, then the other, looking over my face and body. His eyes appeared free of worry. “Seems you have… but then, you never had that much to begin with.”

            My jaw tightened. “Maybe, but… it still isn’t natural. Is this _really_ the first you’re noticing it?”

            Yasha shrugged lazily. “Oh, I might have noticed it before now, but it never seemed like a big deal. You’re not itching or having rashes or heat flashes, right?”

            “Well… no, but-”

            “So I don’t see the problem.”

            Something was wrong here. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on… Yasha was nothing if not a master of taking things in his stride, but this was blasé even for him. He sounded like my second brother dismissing noises heard at night without a care.

            “Yasha-kun… I’m worried. There _are_ diseases humans can get that make body hair fall out. What if I’ve got one of them?”

            He smiled at me condescendingly. “Other than the hair, have you been feeling ill at all lately?”

            “Well… no,” I was forced to concede.

            “Then don’t worry about it. Besides, you look prettier with your skin all smooth and milky like this. At worst, this is probably just some side-effect of the Elixir of Life that took a while to kick in.”

            My heart started in my chest. “But that’s worse!” I blurted.

            Yasha’s hands came to a sudden halt. “You what?”

            I gulped hard before continuing, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry. “If it’s taken _this_ long for one of the side effects to come out, then there could be others. Maybe even something worse! And even if it isn’t from the elixir, it could still be from something bad.” I turned around in the bath and rested a hand on my husband’s lap. “I think I should see a doctor.”

            He rolled his eyes at my concern. “Geeze… With your propensity for worrying, it’s no wonder hair is falling out.”

            I glared and punched him in the shoulder ineffectually. “Don’t make fun of me, Yasha-kun! I…” Since the night of Yasha’s poisoning, I hadn’t needed to playact nearly as much, but when I did, it grated at my pride twice as hard as before. So before going on, I had to weigh if it was worth it. I did _want_ to die after all. And if I died because Yasha refused to bring me medicine, he’d have no one to blame but himself. Still, I didn’t relish the thought of dying slowly and uncomfortably of sickness.

            “Yasha-kun,” I started again, “this might seem like nothing to you, but… humans are fragile. We _have_ to be attentive to signs of sickness because sometimes, if we wait till an illness gets bad before treating it, then it’s already too late to do anything about it. So please. Just… indulge my sense of caution. Please? For me?”

            He didn’t immediately brush me off, which was encouraging, but his eyes still reflected a strong reluctance. Finally he offered, “Maybe I can just… ask the medicine seller I know. Not have you actually _see_ the doctor and leave the realm.”

            I thought about this, chewing my lip fretfully. “Maybe but… How much do you know about my condition?”

            “Only what you’ve told me,” Yasha replied with an unexpected note of impatience in his tone. “You’ve lost body hair and otherwise you feel fine. That is _literally_ all you’ve told me.”

            I cringed a little at the defensive tone, but carried on firmly regardless. “He’s probably going to have some more questions if that’s all you can tell him. Questions that only I can answer. If you’re just going between us, it could take all week to get a diagnosis. That won’t make anyone happy.”

            Yasha mulled on that for a long few seconds, then exhaled a muttered, “Damn it!” Finally he sighed, met my eyes again, and squeezed my shoulders. “Alright. I don’t wanna risk bringing you out of the realm, but… I’ll bring him here instead. He’s weak enough not to be a threat. Just… wait a week. His fees can be pretty extravagant, and it’ll take some time for me to get payment.”

            I felt a groan build up in my throat, but I converted it into just a pout. “A week?”

            “You don’t get it,” Yasha said, rubbing his face with a groan of his own. “This guy wants a different form of payment almost every time I go to him. It could be anything from seaweed to coral to animal bones, and he’s always super picky about the quality of whatever it is he asks for. Best case scenario, I could get him here in two days. I just need you to be patient. You’re feeling fine just now, right?”

            I nodded charitably. “Yeah… I think I can wait that long.”

            “Alright. Good.” After a pause and a long look, Yasha fixed me with a wry smirk and ruffled my wet hair. “You are so much trouble, you little cutie. I’m expecting to be richly rewarded for my efforts, just so you know.”

            I had a pretty good idea what sort of ‘reward’ the demon had in mind. “Alright.” I flashed a weak imitation of a smile and allowed my husband to kiss me before resuming our bath.

 

            It’s funny… I remember waiting anxiously for the day Yasha finally brought a doctor to see me, and yet I was caught completely off guard when it finally happened.

            Yasha entered the realm much earlier than was his wont. His expression and posture were tense as he approached and knelt beside me. “Hey. The doctor is here like you asked,” he said, skimping on the small talk as ever.

            “Good. Thank you.” I rolled up the scroll I’d been reading, then looked around the realm. My eyes settled on Yasha’s anxious expression. “Uh… where… is he?”

            “He’s just outside in an air pocket,” Yasha said in a hurried manner, suggesting that his thoughts were already a few lines further ahead in the dialogue. He seemed like he was going to start talking immediately after that, but instead he ground to a halt.

            I ushered him on a little. “Why is he out there?”

            “I wanted to talk to you first.” He wasn’t meeting my eyes as he said this. His fingers moved and clenched absently in thought.

            “Yes?” I’d never seen him so hesitant.

            His jaw clenched for a moment before he could bring himself to meet my eyes and speak. “I want you to have your face covered and not speak while he’s here.”

            I stiffened. A hot prickle of unaccountable embarrassment ran up my neck. “Why?”

            “What do you mean, ‘why’?” Yasha said confrontationally.

            I took a few deep breaths, trying to center myself. Yasha was a totally unreasonable prick, and he would only become more so if I replied in kind. “I mean… this is a doctor who you hired specifically to see if I’m sick or not. He’s got to examine me in order to do that. So how is it in the least way sensible to cover up my face?”

            The demon glowered at me, but he didn’t have an answer for me right away. I realized that my wording was probably a little…

            “I don’t want him to see you…” Yasha said after a pause.

            “Right, I got that.”

            “No!” He clenched his fists in frustration. “I mean… I don’t want him looking at your beautiful face and getting any ideas.”

            I did all but let my jaw go slack. It took a few seconds for me to remaster my voice and be sure I wouldn’t froth at his sheer stupidity. “Yasha-kun…” I began at last. “This _is_ what he does for a living, right? Nothing like that is gonna happen. I mean… I’m probably not the only patient he’s dealt with this year. He’s probably seen patients much prettier than me.”

            For a moment, Yasha seemed mollified. But then his glower returned even darker a moment later. “But he’s the only person besides me who _you’ve_ seen this year.”

            In retrospect, it seems obvious how I should have responded. I should have playacted, either the wounded lover enraged or heartbroken by their partner’s distrust, or else the infinitely magnanimous lover amused by the thought that another person could even _try_ to lead them astray. Either one would likely have settled Yasha’s nerves. Hell, I could even have playacted being coquettish and said something like, “But is he handsomer than _you_ , Yasha-kun?” and he might have taken it well.

            But along with my sense of time, it seems my wits had also suffered from the perpetual isolation. I was so distracted by my own indignation that I forgot everything I’d learned about dealing with Yasha. The only way to make any kind of progress with this brat was to try and appeal to him on an emotional level. Instead, I hotly embarked on an appeal to reason in which I could not hide my bitterness.

            “So… What, you think the mere sight of one man who isn’t you after a year is going to…” I waved a hand vaguely, “… make me want him? That I’d be overcome with dishonest lust? Before you came along, I’d never been with a man – nor wished to. I’m not going to go mad or fall in love with some medicine maker just because I clapped eyes on him!”

            I could tell even as I was speaking that my husband was not satisfied. His quiet glower turned by degrees into a barely restrained snarl before I was even halfway finished. Clearly, hearing his fears spoken aloud, far from highlighting just how ridiculous they were, made them seem valid to him. My tone of obvious mockery made no difference.

            After a pregnant pause, Yasha began to speak in a threatening whisper. “You are going to lie on your back with a cloth covering your face. If I catch you trying to peek at him, there will be a price to pay. I’ll be watching the whole thing to make sure you obey me. You will not speak to him – or to me – without my express permission. If he asks you a question, you will wait for me to give you permission before you reply, and then you will speak in a monotone whisper so that he doesn’t hear your real voice. Finally, you don’t move unless either he moves you or I tell you to move. You just lie on your back and behave. My wife’s body is too naturally sensuous, and I _won’t_ have you seducing him with your movements – even unconsciously. If ever I find out that you have…” He bit off the last bit of his sentence and just sat glaring at me for a long while. Then suddenly, his expression became lighter. He grinned at me, though I could still see the menace in his eyes. “That’s not going to be a problem though, _is it_ , my sweet, obedient bride?”

            Rage and helpless fear churned in my stomach. I knew that there was only one correct response to this. “No, Yasha-kun my husband.”

            The stiff smile returned to his face as he pointed to the futon without a word. Concealing my frustration, I got up, cinched my kimono tighter, found a broad napkin to lay over my face, and lay down where I was told. Irresistibly, my thoughts formed a mental picture of the present scene. It struck me that I must look like a body being prepared for burial.

            After a long moment’s silence, Yasha called out, “Are you ready now?”

            Getting into practice, I replied in a subdued voice, void of inflection. “Yes, Yasha-kun.”

            There was an irregular splash as Yasha left the realm, and then all was silent, leaving me to stew in my own thoughts for about three minutes. Then there was another irregular splash, and I heard two pairs of sandals clacking onto the stone floor, accompanied by a jingling clatter of jars, bottles, and other such oddments. From almost the moment of entry, I could sense a change in the atmosphere of the realm. It was a strange and subtle thing, difficult to put my finger on, but it was a little bit like the anxious heaviness one feels in the air in the second before a thunderclap. That was almost certainly Yasha’s energy, his anxiety now at a tangible pitch.

            “That’s him?” The voice was so soft and muted that I barely caught the words. Apparently Yasha had given him a set of instructions to follow as well; from the voice, I could just about deduce that the speaker was male, and that was it.

            Yasha’s reply, assuming he gave one, must have come nonverbally. I found it surprisingly easy to distinguish their footfalls as they approached; Yasha was the one with the surly stomp, while the other man had a more measured, even step. There was a bit of rustling as Yasha sat at a point above my head and the medicine seller set what sounded like a pack at my feet.

            “To start,” the man said in that soft, characterless whisper, “I will begin feeling his limbs for rash, dryness, or lesions. I will need to touch his skin as high as the shoulder to do this.” I heard Yasha’s breath catch, but no remark was forthcoming. A hand pressed on my sleeve near the wrist. “I will need you to tell me if at any time this starts to hurt.”

            “Don’t actually speak,” Yasha interjected quickly. “Just… click your tongue to let us know. Nod to let me know you understand.”

            I nodded, already feeling weary and irritated with this whole convoluted spectacle. Presently, the medicine man began to feel his way up my arm, first at my wrist, then the top and bottom of my forearm, then my elbow, then my bicep, and finally just below my arm pit. His hands were dry, but unusually cold and unpleasant to the touch. Yasha held his tongue throughout, but I could sense his resentment as he watched.

            After thoroughly examining my right arm, the medicine seller slid my sleeve back down to my wrist and evened it out, then repeated the procedure with my left arm. This time, though, after feeling every other point on my arm, he took my wrist between three pinched fingers and just held it there, not unlike someone holding a contaminated bit of fabric. I wasn’t sure what he was doing at first, until I realized that I could feel a vein pulsing against his thumb.

            He held this pose for about half a minute, then made a soft, ‘Hm.’

            Though we weren’t touching, I thought I could feel Yasha twitch like a disturbance in the air. “What?” he asked shortly.

            “Mmph… Nothing…” The medicine seller was still careful to keep his voice grey and neutral as he spoke. He lay my arm back down and pulled my sleeve back to my wrist before continuing his examination. At one point, I heard a rustling as he began to search for something in his pack.

            “What’s that?” Yasha said when the medicine seller seemed to have found what he was looking for.

            “It’s for testing reflexes,” he said coolly. “I will need to pull the leg of his hakama up above his knee for this.”

            A rustling of movement was abruptly aborted as Yasha barked, “I’ll do that!” I heard the medicine seller sidling over to let Yasha take his seat, then felt Yasha’s warm hand on my ankle, and the slight, nervous perspiration on his palms. “Stop watching me while I do this!” he snapped. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed like the sound of the medicine seller turning away was accompanied by a slight sigh of forced calm. Then Yasha rolled the leg of my hakama up to my thigh and said, “Okay.”

            A few seconds later, I felt a heavy yet painless rap just above my kneecap, and my leg gave a slight kick before I could stop myself. Yasha’s hand lighted on my other ankle and squeezed warningly.

            Then the medicine seller muttered, “That’s about normal,” as he returned the instrument to his pack. My husband’s grip slackened. “While his leg’s exposed, I’ll need to inspect it the way I did his arm.”

 

            The rest of the examination went on in much the same manner, with Yasha becoming increasingly agitated and trying to interfere with each new test. When the medicine seller said he needed to look in my mouth, Yasha spent at least a minute trying to argue against the necessity of it. He only agreed on the proviso that he would use his hands to keep my lips covered while the doctor examined just my throat. When, almost immediately after this, the medicine seller said that he needed to see my eyes, Yasha refused outright and threatened to send him home immediately if the medicine seller tried to argue with him.

            The last part of the examination consisted of questions, mostly to do with my daily routine and physical activities. I was only able to answer two of the questions myself. For the rest, Yasha insisted on answering for me. And of course, he became brutishly terse any time the medicine seller asked for clarification of one of the demon’s answers, which made it take even longer. By the end, I started to wonder if the medicine seller would even make it out of the realm alive.

            But at long last, the exam was complete. The doctor announced his diagnosis: “He’s healthy and unaffected by any discernable illness. However, he does lack a certain amount of muscular vigor, and his reflexes seem a bit dull for a man his age. There were also some indications of residual stress that may be related. I recommend increased physical exercise, and some occasional sunlight. Lastly, in addition to your occasional acupuncture treatments, I recommend regular massages of the back, chest, and all four limbs to facilitate good blood circulation.”

            Yasha listened to all of this without interruption, but I could sense the resentment oozing out of him and affecting the pattern of his breath. In the end, he just gave a noncommittal ‘sure’ of acknowledgement. He was quick to usher the medicine seller out afterward, tossing me a sharp, “You stay right there, Hiro-chan!” before departing.

            Of all the times to be left alone, this was especially unenjoyable. I couldn’t help but imagine how I must have looked to the stranger, as just an anonymous body to be examined with my face covered as for burial, and Yasha doing all in his power to keep me from speaking. It was a special kind of dehumanization.

            After a few minutes left alone with my thoughts, it was something of a perverse relief when my husband finally returned to break the tense solitude. I heard Yasha produce a sigh of relief that neatly mirrored my own feelings. Then his footsteps drew near to me.

            “Take that _stupid thing_ off your face,” he ordered.

            A tight little knot of indignation screwed itself up in my belly as I reached a hand up to pull the napkin from my face. Almost the instant my vision was unobscured, Yasha was upon me.

            He flipped me over, jerked my kimono up and my hakama down without first untying either, and then shoved himself inside of me. No hesitation nor slowing.  

            I cried out in pain and discomfort at the sudden intrusion, then without thinking I tried to swivel my hips to a position that would make the demon’s cock slip out. For my efforts, Yasha gripped my shoulders and pressed me down into the futon with enough force to leave bruises from his fingertips. Then his hands slid down my arms till they found my wrists, pinned them to the small of my back, and pinned both of my wrists in one hand while his other grabbed a fistful of my hair.

            In the stress of the moment, an errant thought occurred to me: the very first time Yasha raped me, he had used his power to pin my wrists like this and leave his hands free. If he wasn’t using that trick now, that meant he _wanted_ to do it like this. He wanted to keep me trapped by his own physical strength while he had his way with me. He _wanted_ it to feel like rape.

            Seeing little way to make things worse, I took a risk and called the man’s name in the most submissive voice I could affect. “Yasha-kun, please…”

            “Shut up!” came the prompt reply, twisting at my hair and angling his thrusts to make it as painful as possible. “Don’t speak right now… Just accept this…”

            So I closed my eyes and resigned myself to wait it out. Despite how the monster had conditioned my body since my capture, I wasn’t hard for this encounter. It was just a rough, unpleasant experience to be waited out. The word ‘punishment’ sprang to mind to describe it, but…punishment for what? I had obeyed every one of his unreasonable demands. What did he have cause to punish me for?

            It went on for two rounds. For the second, Yasha laid me on my back and pinned my arms overhead. He told me I was still not to speak, but to look into his eyes while he ravished me. The tears coursing down my cheeks, the shaking of my muscles, and the pained rhythm of my breathing seemed inconsequential to the animalistic lust in his eyes.

            As Yasha came for the second time and my belly began to complain of being overfull with his seed, his grip finally relaxed. The anger drained from his expression, and he lay atop me while gathering my shoulders in his arms. His lips were right up against my ear as he whispered, “I hated that…”

            I didn’t answer. I wasn’t at all sure what he meant – whether it was the sex itself or the principal of what he’d done (which he no doubt would have said that he _had_ to do).

            Then, stroking my head softly, he elaborated, “I hated having to sit there while another man looked at you and touched you… Even knowing it was for your own good, it was… agony.” He lifted his head up and held my cheeks gently in his hands while he stared into my eyes. There was something vulnerable in his expression which bordered on an apology. “Please, Hiro-chan… Try not to get sick for real. I promise I’ll help you to stay healthy. I just…” He offered me a pained smile. “God, it almost killed me watching that… You’re my most precious treasure. I don’t want to give any other man the chance to lust over you. You’re _mine_. My bride. My treasure. The one I have to keep safe.”

            Perhaps if I cared about him at all, those words would have been touching and romantic. Maybe if not for the way he’d so degradingly used my body, I could have felt some ghost of appreciation. But at that moment, I felt the separation between the way we felt for each other like a vast gulf. My heart felt empty, cold, and desolate. The demon’s affection for me was like a campfire on a distant mountain glimpsed by a cold wanderer, visible and yet uselessly distant.

 

            There was… another event along these same lines. It was nowhere close to the medicine seller’s visit chronologically… at least I don’t think it was. I seem to remember my hair having grown much longer by the second event. But there was enough similarity between them that I can never call one to mind without thinking of the other as well.

            One day, Yasha came home earlier than usual. “Hiro-chan!” he called before his feet had touched the stone floor. “Hiro-chan, whatever you’re doing can wait! You have _got_ to see this!”

            I happened to be making a tracing of one of the pages from the atlas, which is not the easiest thing to stop in the middle of, but thankfully I hadn’t gotten very far and could always start over if need be. So I cleaned my brush and laid it to the side before turning to face my husband. The moment he had my attention, Yasha revealed his latest find with a flourish.

            “Oh…” I said it almost unconsciously while my eyes were still drinking in the detail. It was a summer kimono, brilliant white with rich, dark indigo trim. Just below the left shoulder, an insignia of some kind was stitched with bold, black thread. It was one of the most beautiful kimonos Yasha had ever brought home and easily the most tasteful and elegant. It looked like something a lord would wear while lodging at a private onsen with his family.

            I was too slow to cover my admiration, and Yasha drank my expression with pride. “Gorgeous, huh?” He turned it just a little one way and then the other.

            “Yeah…” Even though he’d already seen my initial response, I tried to make my reply a little more subdued now. “It’s not bad.”

            “Want to try it on for me?” Yasha asked with a grin.

            I blinked, taken slightly aback. “Me? I… thought it was for you.”

            To this, Yasha gave a rather forlorn sigh, glancing at the garment in his hands. “I know it is a very masculine cut. I _wish_ I could wear something like this, but it’s actually not as big as it looks. It won’t fit me.” He flashed me a toothy smirk then. “But it should fit you just fine, even despite your girlish looks.”

            I very deliberately took care not to rise to the bait. Instead, I just stood up and walked over to retrieve the kimono from Yasha. He smiled at me and gave my shoulder a squeeze as I took it. “Okay babe, I’ll wait here. Let’s see how it looks on you.”

            As I went behind the partition and started to disrobe, my good humor began to fade almost at once. After all, what good was it to be beautifully dressed if the only person there to see it was somebody I hate? Even as I donned the kimono, I started to dislike the sight of it on my body. The cut and fit were almost perfect, and yet I couldn’t help but feel that it was too big for me. Even when fully cinched, it left much of my chest from collar to sternum exposed. Optimistically, I hoped that maybe Yasha would feel as distastefully toward it as I did and not make me wear it too often.

            When I stepped out from behind the partition, Yasha wasn’t looking at me. He knelt at the edge of the floor, looking across the void at the barrier, apparently either retouching his makeup or using some cream for his skin. I took a few steps closer, making no effort to soften my footfalls.

            “I’m… not sure if this is the best look for me,” I ventured hesitantly.

            Yasha gave a rueful smirk without turning his attention away from his reflection. “Oh?” Going by his tone, he found my insecurity amusing.

            “I mean it… _fits_ fine, but it feels kind of big.”

            Still smirking, Yasha set the jar he’d been holding aside and turned toward me. The very instant he set eyes on the kimono, the smile disappeared. The change was so sudden that it startled the train of thought right out of my head. Slowly, his eyes narrowed.

            “Take it off,” he said in a deadly monotone.

            My head spun as though dizzy from his sudden mood swing. “What?”

            “Take it off!” Yasha was already positioning himself up on one knee.

            His anger was all the more striking for its incongruity. My heart was pounding, and I took care not to trip over my feet as I turned toward the partition.

            “I didn’t tell you to go anywhere!” Yasha snapped, now on his feet and advancing as though he meant to strike me. “Just take it off! NOW!”

            Fearfully, I hastened to undo the kimono’s sash with fumbling fingers, watching the man bearing down on me even as I moved. I was only able to undo the knot and free one shoulder before my husband grabbed me and pushed me to the ground. As we fell, he gave the back of the robe a flick so that it spread out behind me, and I landed with the small of my back touching the bare stone floor.

            Before I could come to grips with what was happening, my hakama had been pulled down, my fundoshi torn off, and Yasha had crammed his throbbing dick inside of me. By the time I registered all of this, he was already rolling his hips into me like a blur, and my belly hurt from the speed of it.

            I was so scared.

            I saw the beastly snarl on my husband’s lips, but I couldn’t understand what I was being punished for. All I’d done was put on the kimono he told me to wear. So why was I being treated like this now? Why was he trying to hurt me?

            Thankfully, it only took him about two minutes to finish. He bit my shoulder as he came – hard enough to leave a mark. My fists were curled up against his chest in vague imitation of a fetal position. I heard his hot breath panting in my ear.

            Then at last, he lifted his head, met my eyes, and offered a lazy grin accompanied by an embarrassed little chuckle. “Sorry about that, babe. You’re just… so sexy in that kimono. I couldn’t help myself.”

            I had no answer to give. I barely even looked at him. I felt shell-shocked and numb. Dimly I was glad that I’d been mistrustful of the gift, but that was small comfort. The result had been the same in the end.

            “Babe?” Yasha said, lifting my shoulders off the floor and kissing my cheek. “Aw, did I startle you? It’s okay, babe, I’m find now. We’re finished. C’mon, give me a smile.”

            I avoided his eyes. I had no desire to smile at all.

            “Hiro-chan!” His voice was bubbly with laughter, as though the whole thing were a joke I was taking too seriously. He pulled my hakama the rest of the way off, then set me in his lap so he could litter my neck and cheek with kisses. “C’mon, Hiro-chan, don’t sulk. You’re too beautiful to look so sad.” He gave my neck another kiss, then looked to see if my face had brightened. It hadn’t.

            So after a few seconds, he leaned in and started to nip at my ear and trace his tongue around the edge of it. I shivered and squeezed my legs together, but Yasha just slid his hand between my clenched thighs and began to fondle at my hardening member. As it reached its full length, he chuckled darkly and rubbed the tip of his finger over the slit of my urethra. “Well, okay then. I kind of wanted to keep playing with you in this outfit anyway. If you’re gonna stay in such a bad mood, I’ll just have to pleasure my sweet bride until either you cheer up, or I’ve given you a reason for being so low on energy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omfg it's the penultimate chapter of the book! Fffffffffff!!!!
> 
> Anyhow... before things wrap up, there are a few things I want to address. 
> 
> First off, once Book II is finished, I will NOT being going on hiatus before starting on Book III: The World of Men. However... I WILL be giving more focus to some other projects I need to work on. For a start, my spouse's story request still isn't finished, so I'll need to go and wrap that up. 
> 
> Also, I'm planning on writing a prologue for The Beautiful Beast, as well as some interludes to go in between books. My plan is to work on these on weekends only, then use the rest of the week to work on Book III, but Chapter 1 won't be posted until at least the prologue is finished. 
> 
> This is all so exciting! Thank you all for accompanying me on this journey. It's been great fun already, and I'm so eager to continue. I'll meet you all at the conclusion of Spirited Away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was right. I was absolutely right. I had suspected the worst, most evil motive possible, and Yasha had proven me right immediately.

 

            Time went on unmarked, and my mental state got worse and worse. More than once, my meditations drifted out of focus as I began to reminisce about my old life in the world of the living. It felt so long ago now… Disturbingly, quite a few details that should have been immutable and clear had faded and become as vague as the silhouette of a castle glimpsed through the fog.

            Several times, I remember sitting for more than an hour while I tried to remember exactly what the sun and sky had looked like. It didn’t help that, by common wisdom, it was a bad idea to look directly at the sun. I had done so anyway, of course, for just brief moments at a time. It had been round and… yellow? Or was it white? Both answers made sense. Thinking back, I seemed to have memories of both colors. Could it have been both at different times?

            Yes, that made sense. Like the sky. The sky was always blue when not hidden by clouds, but it did turn different hues of red, yellow, and orange at sunrise and sunset. Perhaps that was why it seemed to be a different color sometimes. The clouds themselves… Common wisdom held that they were white. Still, it seemed like they could change color too. If they covered enough of the sky, they would turn gray or black, right?

            Yes, that was right. I was sure, because I knew they made the whole world turn gray and shadowy whenever it rained.

            _Rain_ …

            That was an unexpectedly strong memory. It was always so cool. It made the world smell a certain way. The smell itself was the incarnation of calm… Were those my own words, or had I read them somewhere?

            But those clouds, at any rate… It seemed strange, but I could remember clouds bearing so many different colors. Most of them, in fact. Red, yellow, orange, purple, silver… too many colors to be credible – especially purple. And yet… the first time I ever set eyes on Yasha, hadn’t I thought that his hair was like the clouds I’d seen at that very same sunset? And where was I getting the idea of silver from, as well? Was there… Alright, so the sky turned different colors during the sunset, but what about during the noonday? It was always blue, but did it turn silver in the regions closest to the sun at noon? Or was I getting the impression of silver from something else…

            That wasn’t all. Even during day-to-day activities, I began to suffer severe lapses. Yasha would come home as I was reading and engage me in some bland, husband-wife pleasantry. Once that formality was over with, he would ask me what I was reading. But although I had only just been reading it a few seconds ago, I couldn’t recall which book or scroll was in front of me without looking. That… happened more times than I can count.

            At first, Yasha found such lapses endearing. He said that I was ‘ditzy,’ and he chuckled at me. It was during one such lapse that I actually ate bacon without becoming sick. It seems like I was just sitting at the table with Yasha, eating something that tasted good and wondering what that foul smell hanging in the air was. Then I noticed the way that the man was grinning at me.

            “What?” I asked, covering my mouth as I was still chewing on a bite.

            “You’re eating it!” he said triumphantly. “And you seem to really like it too.”

            “Like what?” I said, nonplussed.

            “The bacon, silly! That’s your fifth piece now!” He pointed at my hand.

            I followed, and sure enough I was holding a crispy, brittle strip of the red flesh. Staring in partial disbelief, I lifted the remaining piece to my mouth. It… tasted good. That fact flooded me with guilt – an emotion I knew all too well in those days. “I didn’t… know…”

            Yasha returned an indelicate scoff. “Didn’t know? I’ve been working on it all week, and I even told you we’d be having it for dinner when I got home.” He started to raise his bowl to his mouth with a lofty smirk, but then stopped abruptly and furrowed his brow. “Have you not been listening to a word I’ve said all day?”

            Heat prickled all through my body while shame enveloped me like a blanket. I realized that, if put to the test, I _couldn’t_ recall a single thing Yasha had said to me all day. My face became so hot, I thought it would liquify before I managed to stammer out an apology.

            But then, Yasha’s glower melted into a sunny grin. “Aw, Hiro-chan… How am I supposed to stay mad at a cute, pathetic face like that?” Seeing the anger go away, I tentatively quirked one corner of my lips in a sheepish smile. _Crisis… averted?_

            However, my condition continued to get worse until eventually, even Yasha couldn’t ignore it or pass it off anymore. My lapses became too constant to be amusing anymore, especially on the occasion when I responded to the question, “What do you want for dinner?” with, “That makes sense.” After that, the demon’s good-natured laughs became replaced more and more often with scolding. It didn’t help.

            It was around then that my sleeping trouble began. More nights than not, I would wake up before Yasha and be unable to go back to sleep. So I would sneak out of bed and find something to read until I felt ready to sleep again. On occasion, I wound up reading on until morning. Ironically, Yasha _attributed_ my frequent lapses to these nights, saying, “You wouldn’t be so forgetful if you didn’t keep getting up to read in the middle of the night.” My protestation, that waking up in the middle of the night was just another symptom of my lapses, and had begun well after my memory troubles started, went practically unheard.

 

            Then, everything culminated on one night… god knows when, but my hair had grown long enough to hang halfway down my chest. That morning, in a startling break from established practice, Yasha forced me to climax with his mouth as soon as I was awake, and then he went out on his daily expedition without getting himself off as well. I had no idea what to make of this, so I endeavored to distract myself from the thought. And I succeeded, too.

            If memory serves, I had just be given two new books the previous night, and I hadn’t had a chance to read either of them yet. I don’t remember what sort of books they were, but they were enough to keep me occupied through the day. I hardly thought about Yasha at all until he returned home.

            During dinner, I tried to distract myself from my husband by thinking about the books I’d just been reading. There was just one problem: Yasha was staring at me. Intensely. Angrily. But I wasn’t sure why. Had he said something that I missed? Was he now waiting for me to apologize for not paying attention? No, that couldn’t be it… Yasha wasn’t the sort to wait around for my attention, and he always demanded an apology if it was an apology he wanted. So I did my best to just ignore it.

            “Is the food bad?” Yasha said at last, breaking the tension. I blinked, looked at him, then back down at my bowl. I’d had a few episodes lately where I would sit down at the table to eat and then space out. I thought that I _was_ eating because I was sitting at the table, but when I looked down, my chopsticks would still be clean, or there’d only be one or two bites of food missing. It was quite a problem whenever Yasha wasn’t around to catch it.

            But that wasn’t the case this time. We were eating a hearty miso soup full of nuts and mushrooms, and the flavor was very good. When I looked down, my bowl was almost empty. I’d eaten more than Yasha had. “No, it’s fine,” I said, taking another bite to demonstrate my appreciation for the fare.

            There was silence for all of about six seconds before Yasha said, “Are you bored with your books already?”

            This was a surprisingly complicated question for me just then. I wasn’t feeling very energetic, and I’d stopped to take a nap at one point halfway through the second book. Consequently, I found his strange use of ‘already’ to be too much to grapple with. “I’m fine. I can always use more books, but-”

            “So you _are_ bored with them,” he said conclusively.

            I returned a weary sigh, starting to feel a little frustrated. “No, Yasha-kun, I’m not bored with my books. The new ones are very entertaining, and I’m still making my way through one of them.”

            Another pause, even shorter than the last one, barely gave me time to lift the spoon to my mouth. “Do you need more clothes?” His pitch was starting to rise in irritation now.

            “The ones I have are fine,” I responded promptly.

            “Well, should I get you better bed linens?” For some reason, he kept getting angrier the more I insisted that things were fine.

            “No, the ones we have are good.”

            “Is there anything _at all_ you need?”

            “No, I’m just fine. I’m content.”

            Finally, Yasha slammed his fist hard against the table and barked, “Then why don’t you ever _fucking smile_?”

            That twinged a nerve. Another of my recent lapses was that I kept forgetting to playact. That’s not to say that I’d forgotten _how_ , I’d just been forgetting to do it. Yasha, of course, had taken to reminding me. He kept advising me to ‘smile!’ whenever I didn’t seem as happy as his ‘pretty wife’ ought to be. The more my mind drifted, the more often he said it to me. I usually obliged him, but it only got more and more grating with each repetition. So when I realized that this whole interrogation had all just been leading up to _that_ asinine issue again, I felt my chest clench with disgust. I started into my soup and squeezed the handle of my spoon.

            With the general apathy I’d been feeling all day suddenly joined by a dose of sharp loathing, I experienced a sudden lapse of good sense. I was caught off guard by my own emotions, and I spat out the first spiteful words that sprang to mind: “Why don’t you give me a reason?”

            A gale roared against my face, whipping my hair back, and flung the spoonful of soup I’d been holding onto the front of my billowing kimono. I looked up at Yasha, heart pounding.

            He had never looked more terrible.

            Not when I first saw him, not when he was gloating over the ashes of my village, not when he was crouching over me after being struck with naga venom, not even on the night I tried to run away. The gale that whipped about the realm was emanating from his body. His long, violet hair thrashed all about like snakes, tossed every which way by the gusts blowing out from where he sat. A huge, dark vein bulged from his forehead, another from the side of his neck, and the backs of his hands were textured with them. His ordinarily feminine face now showed no features that were especially male or female either way. His teeth were bared as wide as his eyes, not by any conscious effort to emote, but simply by the storm of hatred inside of him drawing all of his features tight. His eyes themselves were red and bulging, and at some point his stare had slid slightly downward; he wasn’t meeting my gaze.

            I was paralyzed. I thought that any moment now, my heart would stop just from looking at him.

            Then, I was on my back, listening to the sound of dishes crashing onto stone. My gaze was locked onto Yasha’s eyes as they blazed with hate, and his hands squeezed my throat. It took a moment for my reflexes to catch up with the situation, and then my body was saturated with panic.

            _I can’t breathe…_

            I grabbed Yasha’s wrists and shoved at them with all my strength while my body thrashed and my legs spasmed beneath him. It was useless. Yasha’s grip was as firm as a mountain’s roots. Not even the least detail of his expression changed. I could feel myself running out of air, and it was only burning out faster as I struggled.

            _Oh god! I can’t stop him! He isn’t going to stop! He’s going to kill me! He’s going to… kill me._

            Just like that, the panic disappeared.

            _He’s going to kill me. He’s going to kill me! Yes! It’s happening! It’s finally over! He’s killing me! I’m leaving! It’s over! I’m free!_

            Overwhelming relief swept over me. I think I felt tears in my eyes. The joy was so powerful that, without meaning to, I smiled. I had to fight against the demon’s grip to do it, but he couldn’t stop it. Neither of us could. It was a big, real, helplessly sincere smile, the likes of which Yasha could never in a million years force out of me, nor I imitate.

            As that smile fixed itself on my face, I pulled my eyelids down over my bulging, deoxygenated eyes and let my hands go limp.

            _I’m ready to go home._

            My chest suddenly swelled with air, and I began choking, coughing, hacking, and working air back into my lungs in excruciating increments.

            _No!_

            At first, my vision was so dark that I could barely see. I tried to push my hands against my sternum in the vague suspicion that this might somehow inhibit my body’s attempts to resuscitate itself, but to no avail.

            _No! Not now! Please not now! Why?_

            As my vision cleared, I saw Yasha a few paces away. He was on his haunches, having apparently crab walked away from me. On his face was an expression I had never seen – had not even though him capable of producing: Fear. Terror. And he was staring at me as its source.

            I was still coughing, but my useless, treacherous body was recovering quickly from the brink of death. With my elation drained out of me, I felt supremely cheated. As soon as I could stop coughing long enough to speak, I would demand to know why Yasha had stopped – why he couldn’t finish what he started. But I didn’t get the chance.

            Almost the instant I regained control of my voice, Yasha leapt up from where he was seated, dashed over to grab his spear and his rucksack, then fled from the realm. I was left all alone.

            As the demon disappeared from sight, I hung my head and braced my clenches fists against the floor. _Damn it! I was so close! It’s not fair! I was about to get out of here! I want to get out!_

            I rubbed at my throat, already feeling the welts and bruises left by his fingers. It didn’t make sense. Yasha had told me that humans were incredibly fragile, and that he’d killed scores of them without even meaning to. On the wasteland of the Underworld, I’d seen him rip an imp’s head off with his bare hands, and it hadn’t seemed to take any effort. Given all that, how could the grip of Yasha’s hands have failed to decapitate me? At the very least, it should have crushed my throat beyond recovery. So why hadn’t it? Why was I still alive?

            _It’s not fair…_

            I slammed both fists into the floor like a pouting child. “IT’S NOT FAIR!”

 

*****

 

            Yasha did not return to the realm that night. I suppose that was fortunate, but I just didn’t care one way or the other. After the initial disappointment and adrenaline faded, there was… nothing left. I went to bed feeling nothing. I woke up feeling nothing. Once awake, I stared unthinkingly out into nothing. I stayed awake in bed, eyes open, for hours. The feeling that I ‘should do’ something failed to arrive.

            I was eventually drawn out of bed by… habit, I suppose. It was getting to be about the time of day when I usually made myself a snack and read or copied something for a while. But once I’d gotten as far as sitting up and pulling the blankets off, my energy was spent. I sat there and stared out into space. It had made absolutely no difference that I was now sitting up.

            Then, out of my peripheral vision, I saw the barrier bulge, split, and open to let my husband through. “I’m home!” he called out with boyish exuberance.

            I didn’t move an inch, but just mechanically responded, “Welcome home,” without looking in his direction.

            Yasha took two small steps toward me, still at the corner of my vision. “Hey Hiro-chan, sorry about… ya know, yesterday. That was… Yeesh, I don’t even _know_ what happened back there.” He didn’t exactly sound torn up about it. On the contrary, he sounded like he was just bursting to tell me the ‘good news.’

            “Mm.” I didn’t bother pretending to forgive him since I didn’t have the energy to be mad at him in the first place.

            “But hey!” he carried on with undaunted enthusiasm, “I think I have something to make it up to you!”

            “Oh?” I said with no particular interest.

            There was a rustling as Yasha pulled something from his rucksack and then held it up toward me. “Tada! Say hello!”

            That last part caught my attention. I blinked, turned to see what the spirit was holding, and… I think my heart skipped a beat. Soft, yellow, and barely larger than one of the mochi Yasha had given me for my 20th birthday, a puppy dangled in the air, held up by its scruff.

            All day, my mind had been as dark and quiet as an abandoned city. Now, at the sight of that puppy, it was like lamps were being lit in every home, every building, and on every street corner. Goosebumps rose on my hairless skin, and my heart kept up a mad rhythm. Just as I began to doubt whether or not it was real and alive, I saw its nose twitch and its snout wiggle as it sniffed the air. Its arms were lifted up and its paws dipped downward in that adorable way that puppies do.

            “What… is that?” I asked at a loss for words.

            “It’s a puppy, silly!” Yasha said with good humor. “Isn’t he cute?” I focused on my husband’s face and saw him grinning proudly. He’d already set his spear aside and was scratching at the puppy’s cheek playfully. “I figured, since I’m out for so long every day providing for us, you might appreciate a little company while I’m gone. Charming and handsome as I am, I’m only one man, after all.” He met my eyes, flashing me his most dapper grin. “This has _got_ to be reason enough for you to smile more, right?”

            An answer didn’t even occur to me. My attention was pulled back to the puppy. This was the first living creature other than Yasha that I’d seen in at least a year. My hands were trembling. I _wanted_ it. I wanted to hold it and clutch it gently to my chest. It would be so soft and warm and… _alive_ …

            And yet, my heart pounded out a warning. _Don’t take it! Don’t even touch it! This is a trap!_ How many times since my abduction had I ignored such warnings? Too many. I would not ignore it now. Not when I’d seen the evil spirit turn seemingly kind gestures to his advantage time after time after time. I had to see through it this time…

            While I was still thinking, the puppy began sniffing in my direction, and its tail began to wag.

            Yasha’s grin deepened another notch. “Aww! I think he likes you!” He walked over to the futon, set the pup down near me, and give its behind a little nudge in my direction. Clumsily, it began to waddle toward me and sniff at my knee. I resolutely refused to touch it. “So sweet!” Yasha gushed, staring at it. “What are you gonna name him?”

            I kept my mouth shut. This had to be a trick. It _had to be_. What did Yasha stand to gain by giving me this animal? It was another mouth to feed. He wouldn’t _really_ do it just to get a smile out of me, would he?

            “C’mon, Hiro-chan!” Yasha prompted when I remained silent. “He’s gotta have a name if we’re gonna keep him.”

            I clenched my jaw and hardened my resolve. “No.” The moment I said the word, I felt stronger. This wasn’t about trying to untangle the complicated tricks that came out of Yasha’s mind; this was about trusting my instincts. “We’re not keeping him.”

            Yasha gaped. If nothing else, his shock was probably genuine. “What?”

            I met his eyes and spoke in a hard tone. “Take him back. I won’t have anything to do with it.”

            He kept gaping at me for a few seconds, then produced a nervous little laugh. “You… you must be joking. You _don’t want_ him?” I didn’t reply – just stared at him unflinchingly. “But… he’s so cute… and he _likes_ you. Look!” He pointed to something the puppy was doing at my feet. I kept my eyes fixed on Yasha’s face.

            “I don’t care,” I said defiantly.

            His eyes and lips made a few indiscernible movements. Then a look of pleading, happy sincerity covered his face, like a child asking their mother, ‘Please can we keep it?’ Yasha reached out, picked up the puppy with both hands, and started to rub it fondly against his cheek. “Hiro-chan,” he said chidingly, smiling as he met my eyes. “Hiro-chan, how can you be so cold? This little guy needs a home and lots of love. Look at how cute he is! Come on… I know you’re still mad and sulking at me, but you’re not gonna take it out on _this_ adorable little guy, are you?”

            My breath caught, my pulse slowed, and my hair stood on end. That was it! Yasha had just shown his hand. That’s what this was all about. Yasha wasn’t offering me a puppy to keep me company. He wanted to use it to control me. To manipulate me. To coerce me.

            The puppy would be just as dependent on Yasha’s good will as I was, and even more vulnerable. He would let me keep it, name it, feed it, and grow attached to it. Then, once I well and truly loved that puppy, I would do _anything_ to keep it safe. Yasha would never need to set his hands on _my_ throat to put me in line if the dog would serve just as well.

            I hardened my stare and injected an icy edge into my voice. “I. Don’t. Care… I. Don’t. Want it.” I sneered at the animal he held. “And I don’t like dogs.”

            This last part was a bold-faced lie, and I guess from the look I got in reply that Yasha suspected as much. I didn’t back down, though. I held the demon’s gaze unflinchingly, watching the exuberance in his face chill until our expressions were nearly identical. The pup started to lick at Yasha’s cheek, but neither of us batted an eye.

            Finally, Yasha broke the stalemate. “Alright,” he said reasonably, and he set the puppy down on the floor an arm’s length from the futon. Then there was a blur of motion, and the demon rematerialized standing just behind the pup with his spear in his hands, pointing its tip at the back of the creature’s head. “Do you want me to just kill it, then?”

            I looked him in the eye without allowing a shred of emotion to color my expression. I was right. I was absolutely right. I had suspected the worst, most evil motive possible, and Yasha had proven me right _immediately_. The victory came with a profound sense of melancholy.

            “Why would I want that?” I asked, injecting just enough contempt into my voice to make it sound like I didn’t care, and like I was only asking because I couldn’t fathom how he thought I did.

            “Well, you said you don’t like dogs,” Yasha said coldly, almost shrugging although the tip of his spear didn’t waver in the slightest. “To tell you the truth, I don’t really care much either. I just brought the puppy because I thought it would make you happy. But if you don’t like it, and you’re _really_ that indifferent, then killing it here and tossing its body into the sea would be easier for me than carrying it all the way back to the human world where I found it.”

            We stared at each other. The truth was, of course, that I _didn’t_ want Yasha to kill the puppy. He knew that. That’s why he was doing this. He was _forcing_ agency for the puppy’s life onto me, so that I would feel responsible whether he killed it or not, and that sense of responsibility would be something he could exploit.

            _You’re despicable._

            “I’m not gonna wait all day for an answer, Hiro-chan. Do you want me to kill it or not?”

            Our eyes were still locked together, matched for our steady breathing and anxious heartbeats. I could feel a sweat starting beneath my clothes. At last, I filled my lungs with a single deep breath, then expelled it all in one icy hiss of syllables: “Yasha is Yasha.”

            夜叉君は夜叉です[i]

            He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. I could see a vein standing out on the back of one of his hands. When his breathing did resume, it was harsh and arrhythmic. My expression didn’t change.

            Then all of a sudden, I saw one of his hands detach from his spear and reach downward. Before I could follow the motion any further, he became a blur and disappeared along with the nameless puppy. I was alone once more.

 

            The whole incident seemed to rekindle me somewhat. If nothing else, it certainly worked up an appetite. Thankfully, the previous night’s soup was still in the pot, and there was enough left over for a full meal. It was already growing dark by the time I’d gotten it hot, but that was no trouble. Tending the fire gave me something to occupy my fretful mind.

            Yasha returned just as I was ladling myself a second helping. He didn’t feel the need to announce himself this time, and I didn’t feel the need to greet him. He just got his own bowl and sat at the table with me as though nothing had happened.

            Minutes rolled by.

            “I brought the puppy back,” Yasha said matter-of-factly. “It’s safe and unharmed.”

            My spoon halted on its way to my lips. I stared into my broth for a few seconds. Then I closed my eyes and sipped the warm spoonful with tranquil pleasure. “Mm. Alright then.”

 

_Book II: Spirited Away_

_-End-_

_To be concluded in Book III: The World of Men_

_  
_

 

 

 

[i] This detail bears explanation. If you’ve watched very much anime, you may already be aware that the Japanese are a bit more comfortable with tautologies (“A=A” statements) than we in the west. It’s yet another way that Japanese culture acknowledges the distinction between a person’s identity and their perception. The particular tautology that Hiroshi uses in this instance carries some intricacies that can’t be explained in-text.

                The original text transliterates: “Yasha-kun wa Yasha desu.” This is a fairly eloquent statement, as it can be interpreted two possible ways. In the first place, the use of the tautology “Yasha is Yasha,” independent from any other setup, forces the listener to draw implications from its use in the present circumstance. In this case, it’s being used to say, “This is just like you.”

                The second interpretation requires a bit of delving. Ordinarily, a tautology involving a person’s name would be delivered with the casual pattern, without verb or honorific: “Yasha ga Yasha.” By including the verb and using ‘wa’ rather than ‘ga,’ he’s deliberately adding a note of cold formality to the statement. Also, though it wouldn’t be unusual to include ‘kun’ when addressing his husband, with whom the honorific is ostensibly used as an endearment, it would be rather striking to use it only once in the sentence. The inclusion of ‘desu’ further brings the honorific’s absence on the second iteration into sharp relief. “Yasha-kun” and “Yasha” are not equivalent. By forcibly equating the two perceptions, Hiroshi is saying, “You, Yasha-kun my husband, are still Yasha the evil spirit and murderer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Here we are. Another milestone completed. 
> 
> Just one more book to go. I hope you all have been very entertained so far. It's crazy to think that I began drafting this story back in January, and that after nine months, I'm still working on it. If I'd known at the time that it was going to get this big, I'd have been too intimidated to start.
> 
> The truth is, I wake up every morning excited to work on this story. I bought a notebook to work on Book III about two weeks ago, and I'm just itching to put it to use! As both of you following me on twitter already know, I do NOT intend to go on hiatus prior to finishing this story, but there are some... details I need to work on. In particular, I'm going to write a prologue for the story and two interludes to go in between the books. 
> 
> Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, everyone who has joined me on this journey. Your kudos and comments have really inspired me, and it's been a privilege to share my ideas with everybody. 
> 
> I'll see you all again soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for joining me on this adventure, and for the continued support of my subscribers. Your comments and kudos mean a lot to me. To get updates on story progress, feel free to tweet me @IsuSeal


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